#I SHALL CONSUME AN ENTIRE LOAF FOR MYSELF

[shenzi-hemlock]

There is going to be warm, fresh bread that has taken me hours to prepare and I’m sitting here like

[courtorderedcake]

Hallow : ch  xxi - CSSNS 2019

“The Goblin King was prepared to host the Darkness, stealing Fae women away to their corrupted lands underneath the ground as concubines. The Darkness chose another in his stead, but not before this selected vessel enacted a devastating attack in its vengeance, revealing its hatred & rage. The battle was a lesson the old kings had forgotten; never underestimate an opponent.

Many more lives were lost as they razed over any who dared defy The Goblin King’s will. Only the pure love of our rulers united in matrimony, breaking the Vorpal Dagger, sealed the darkness and the Goblin menace away. The light flourished under their fair rule, and the queen bore a child as pure as moon beams, swan feathers, and starlight. They lived happily ever after, and shall be written in history as Heroes for All Time.”

This is the history Princess Emma memorizes from the day she is born, paraded about and presented only with the highest protection. The palace is a cage she wishes to escape, desperately. Not careful what wishes she made, Emma discovers history is written by the victors - The Dark One has an entirely different version of the events that took place.

Read on AO3 here.

Rated E for explicit themes, Mature situations, and Fae fuckery.

Written for @cssns

Ch / ?? - In which Pandora's one gift is given.

Sand poured down on Emma, her head spinning and wind knocked from her lungs from the fall to the cave’s floor. They were bathed in darkness now, the light of day Killian had disappeared into blotted out as she struggled to stand. Jasmine yelled from somewhere on her left, or somewhere on what could be her left, and Aladdin was groaning painfully somewhere that seemed to be below her. 

It became harder to walk as more sand poured over her, anger and fear joined with grief, the unexpected stumble making her fall forward into the shifting grains. 

He was gone. 

She remembered everything. 

And he was gone . 

Emma screamed, letting her lungs work through their disuse and abuse in one long banshee chord, her fury rising in her veins. Kindling sparked, embers lit into a broad fan of flame that seemed to burn her alive. Magic exploded around her, bursting forth to bring the caves into a brilliant daylight that cast off the dark walls. Sand swirled around her in an elegant arc, up to the cave’s tall ceilings as it solidified into glass pillars, everything falling away at once to only the sound of her ragged cries. 

Pushing herself to press against the walls of whatever enchantment covered the cave, Emma attempted to pull herself outside of the cavern, but could not. She cursed in frustration, tears pricking at her eyes. 

“Emma, Princess, I am so sorry.” Aladdin approached cautiously, Emma’s head snapping up to stare at him. “I tried, I tried to -" 

"Don’t you dare talk to her!” Jasmine hissed, moving in from another direction, over a large slope of sand. “You said you loved me, then you tried to murder me, and you think you have any right to apologize to anyone?" 

"Jasmine, it’s not like that! I didn’t - I had no choice! I tried to tell you so many times, but I couldn’t -” 

"Bullshit!” Jasmine screamed. “You knew my magic was weak, I told you how my mother died from this burden, you knew that I was absolutely terrified while I played these noble intrigues to curry favor, you knew my fears and you ran to my enemy to tell him every one of my vulnerabilities -" 

"Stop it! Stop, just stop it!” Emma yelled, scrubbing at her face. She stood shakily, moving around the glass pillar she had made. Her hands shook, the feeling of being drenched in power overwhelming. “I need to - We all need to get out of here, so help me find a way out or get out of my way, but stop wasting time!" 

Her attempts to magic herself and them out of the cave useless; Jasmine jumped back slightly at the burst of magic that escaped Emma, the blast knocking Aladdin off his feet. 

He let out a rough groan, sitting up to look at Jasmine with a look of longing Emma recognized. It hurt to even acknowledge. All she wanted was Killian, and what if he wasn’t safe, if they actually killed him or made the Darkness worse? He had kissed her goodbye again, chosen for her again after everything they had gone through. She knew that they could beat the Darkness if he could just trust her, if he could just let her love him, and love her in return. 

And now… And now —

Her brain raced as they dug through the leftover sand on the floor. If she had to count every last particle of sand in the desert, she would just to have him hold her again. There was so much, so much she hadn’t said; so much they had only dreamt of together, so many times she had wanted his touch but without understanding why . Only to have him leave her again. 

"Look, look at this!” Aladdin was pointing to a crevice in the ground, broken apart by glass. Below it, a light shimmered in the form of a torch, intricately carved stairs curving down into the bowels of the cavern. Resting on a stair, glinting like starlight, was the shard on its broken chain. Killian had fought for her. He believed that this was fighting for them; no matter how wrong it was, he was trying. He was fighting in the only way he knew with the Darkness in him, and was willing to be torn to pieces for it. Her thoughts were so selfish and naive compared to his. 

Carefully climbing down the thick glass, she picked up the shard. Peering down the torchlit corridor of steps that led down further, Emma tied up her skirts and began to move downwards. None of them spoke, Jasmine staying close as Aladdin trailed behind with pining glances and a skittish pace. 

They all came to a halt at a door, clearly enchanted by ancient magic. A flowing language Emma could only recognize part of was written in the stone. 

“A heart that lies craves the answer that allows entrance?” Emma asked, tracing the words. 

“It wants truth. It says, ‘the answer is what the heart that is fed on untruths desires’, that only this will open the door. That’s what a dishonest heart craves the most, the truth to combat its lies,” Jasmine sighed. “So, truths… alright.”

Stepping in front of the door, Jasmine looked over to where Emma and Aladdin stood before looking back, clearing her throat. 

“My truth is this: I never wanted to rule. My mother died saving Agrabah from a great cataclysm, which was to be my fate until she saw it. She sacrificed herself for me only to have me turn out to be only mildly clairvoyant. Grandfather locked himself away from us to hide here. After my father was killed, I took over out of necessity. This future is - It’s nothing as my mother described. It’s empty. It’s lonely.”

“I miss not having to constantly search the future for what is coming, I miss talking to my parents, I miss having friends or loved ones I could trust, I miss singing with my birds, and I miss…” Jasmine turned to look at Aladdin. “I told you everything about myself, showed you my world while you promised me that you would do the same. Why did you pretend to care about me? Why did you lie to me at every turn? I don’t want to miss you, and I hate that I let myself ever allow you to know anything about me." 

The door shook, grinding open slightly. 

"You aren’t innocent here either, Jasmine!” Aladdin hissed. “If you want truth, start there. You recognize me like this. You know who I am, and how your father let the guards tie me to that post for days, all because I stole a loaf of bread. You know that I was taken in again for stealing a melon, receiving lashes. You knew they called me a street rat, that I was an orphan deemed to be better on the streets than in a home. All the while, you looked right past me, as if I didn’t exist. I never expected you to ever see me as anything because you are royalty, but you staring into my eyes like that only to leave me at the mercy of the shopkeeper, the guards, your outdated laws that let my family starve… I became consumed by it. I wanted vengeance. I wanted it after your mother died, and after your father was poisoned.”

When rumors spread in the underground of a challenger to your fledgling rule, I jumped at the chance to be useful. I was a thief, no one would hire me after your father marked me as an untouchable. I was beaten for scraps of food while told only my fleas would mourn me above, but below, I was treated like a king. I rose quickly in the ranks as a dependable pickpocket and artifact hunter. That’s when Jafar had me procure the magic from this cave. I had no idea I would be cursed with the plight of the Djinn, bound to a lamp he could use. Jafar only had mumbled about making a Dark One, Arthur chiming in about some sword called Excalibur, before I found myself bound as a slave to them at this very door. The Djinn inside gives the holder the curse, but the wielder is the one who holds the newly made Gene’s lamp. Finding myself inside of it and being summoned to do their bidding was overwhelming. “

Jafar was quick to remind me I wasn’t as good as a Dark One, but I was determined to prove myself. He couldn’t be a Genie, but he could be an all powerful sorcerer instead of a mediocre magician. Hades and Arthur came next, each with their own selfish wishes to make themselves more powerful. I wanted revenge and a better life for the poorest in Agrabah. They wanted Agrabah to burn. We began to see each other in a new light.”

It was Arthur’s second in command who pivoted them to you. I know now that he was one of your guards, and I’m sorry for your loss. Lancelot was a great and honorable man. I never understood why or how he could stand with Arthur until he was gone, labeled a traitor. I owe him a great debt for pushing Arthur to introduce me to you, and to his indomitable belief that you would fight for Agrabah’s people. Lancelot pushed for an insider that would gain the trust of the nobles, ferreting out weaknesses. Arthur agreed that the best way to use me was to spy on you. He used my magic to create Ab’dua with me as its fake prince, so I could bid for your hand in marriage. When I fell in love with you, it complicated things. Genies can’t use magic to take life, create life, or create love - these magics are too ancient, they are lost to us and our workings. We can’t access the light or the darkness, but can access the chaos of the hidden spaces. “

I could not kill you, no matter how much they wished it, but I pretended to attempt it. I delayed their wishes by pretending, stalling, and proposing alternatives. I broke the Genie laws and told them no to keep you safe. I refused to do as I was told. I paid the price.” Aladdin gestured to the long scars that now ran down his arms, no longer the bright blue. 

He stepped toward Jasmine as she backed up slightly, wavering. “When we flew to watch fireworks and you admitted you wanted to be just a normal peasant woman, I thought they would understand. I trusted them like an idiot. I couldn’t tell you I was a Genie without breaking your trust entirely or putting you at risk.” Aladdin raked a hand through his hair, laughing darkly. “They were already looking for other options since I refused to kill you. I thought our love would be enough, I thought I could keep them at bay, but then Jafar - 

"Jafar attacked when I rebuffed his advances,” Jasmine interrupted. “I remember.”

“He tried to ra -” Aladdin tried to growl angrily, but she interrupted. 

“I don’t need to relive the experience,” Jasmine bit out harshly. “In any case, it revealed him as a monster, a thief, and an unequivocal liar.”

“He is a monster. I couldn’t follow him any longer, but he was my master. I fought not to kill you, and I fought not to kill Emma. I made sure Killian could be freed, because I knew that he had deep feelings for the princess. I tried to do everything I could in my power. It was ripping me apart and I was lucky to survive… Which I’ve never been happier about. Please consider my apology, and allow me to protect you fully.”

The door slid open further, and Emma tried to push through. The gap was still just slightly too small. 

“My truth is that… I love Killian.” The door did not open. “But that’s the truth!” she hissed, and Jasmine shot her an annoyed look. 

“Try something a little less obvious, and more vulnerable.”

Emma paused, trying to think of something else that she could say. “I love my family? The United Realms? I…" 

The door did not move. Emma screamed in frustration, pounding on it, tears suddenly burning in her eyes. 

"Why!?” she screeched desperately, the howl nothing compared to what raged inside. “You want truth? Then why? Why is any of this, why does all of this suffering fall on me? Why can’t I just - why am I so useless?" 

"Emma…” Jasmine whispered approaching in worry, but Emma brushed her off. 

“I am so weak, I have had to be saved or pretend to be strong this entire time, to rely on lessons that never prepared me for any of this, and I’ve watched my people - my friends - get hurt again and again. I’ve watched them die ! Why? Are there no just gods? Is it my fault because of my royal pedigree I got by some prophetic birthright? Why can’t I just - why can’t I be stronger?” Emma cried, half heartedly pounding on the door with her shaking fists. “I just - I need to be stronger, because as far as I know everyone I have ever loved is gone, and they could be dead -" 

"Emma. That’s enough!” Jasmine snapped, pulling Emma up firmly. She looked hard, lips set and her dark eyes glinting. “You are strong. How much have you faced? How much have you done? This is not your truth. Love can be an easy truth, and it’s not one needed here. Reach deeper.” Jasmine gripped Emma’s shoulders, giving a shake, before hugging her tightly. 

“Jasmine, I don’t -" 

"You do know, Princess,” Aladdin chimed in. Both women broke their embrace, looking at him expectantly. “Well, I mean -” He blushed, shuffling slightly. “Look. This is how I see it: you choose to find the best in people, like a superpower. You choose to find the truth of that person. You see good in Killian. You see… You saw good in me. Emma, your truth is not dark, and it’s not light; it’s in between, it’s both, it’s -" 

"It’s hope,” Emma finished for him. “Pandora released all the terrors upon the world, until all that was left was hope. It clung to her skirts, multiplying for the eternity she walked the earth trying to undo her wrongs. I hold it in my heart, and I -” The door moved slightly, and she managed a wobbling smile, continuing on. 

“I know despite everything there is hope. Hope for me to find strength, to beat Nil, to save my parents, and to save Killian. I have hope that the Darkness will not stop my love from reaching him.” The door shuddered violently, sliding cleanly as dust and dirt rose from the ground.

“I have hope that one day this will be over, and the Fae - all Fae - will be able to live better lives than they had before. Lives that are hopeful, as we keep moving forward into becoming better.” Emma’s voice wavered, the door wide in front of her. “No one is going to save me, to keep these hopes alive, except for me. I have to fight. I have to punch back.”

Jasmine hugged her tightly, laughing with glee, Aladdin joining them in an embrace as they all whooped with happiness. 

Aladdin fit his palm into hers with a squeeze, Jasmine pulling him in for a tighter hug until shock registered. She jumped back as if she had been burnt, a reddening blush spreading across her cheeks. Looking sheepish, Aladdin opened his mouth to say something, but lost it when he looked to where Emma was gawking. 

On a stone pedestal, raised and lit by some source of magical light, sat a golden lamp carved with ornate markings that shone in the cave, brighter than jewels. 

Jasmine stepped forward and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Looking at the lamp, she called out. 

“Alibaba, Prince of Thieves, Djinn All Father and my Grandfather, I ask you to please wake." 

"Grandfather?” Emma squeaked, only to be hushed by both Aladdin and Jasmine. The cave rumbled, blue smoke filtering slowly from the lamp. 

“Ten thousand years in a lamp will give you such a crick in the neck!” a voice thundered, a man appearing from a column of smoke. He wore a bejeweled turban and kaftan, his deep brown eyes strikingly familiar. They blinked in surprise as he looked down at where they stood. “Granddaughter? Why have you come? I have told your father that I will never reconsider - " 

"My father has been gone now for several years,” Jasmine stated with a calm that bordered a line of steel. “He was poisoned. I took over in his stead and have ruled without incident until now, which is why I have broken your solitude to ask for aid.”

“Aid?” the Djinn asked, crossing his arms, his head falling to one side while his eyes surveyed Jasmine. “I will not help you fight some war, or subject you to the fate your mother sacrificed herself to prevent. If that is what you ask of me, you have only to receive disappointment.”

“Grandfather, I need the power of the Djinn at my side; not locked away under the sands in the middle of nowhere -" 

"Out of the question. No. Your mother did not want the fate of the Djinn tied to your life, and she gave everything for it.” His eyes moved to rest on Emma. “I swore on her name and her memory that the only magic I will perform is creating our kind. You are already part Djinn, and the thief has been freed from his servitude. That leaves only your powerful friend here.”

“Power? Me?” Emma scoffed. “I know my magic is strong and I’m supposed to be some sort of savior, but I promise you this world has turned that idea on its head. I can barely save myself.”

The Djinn laughed, and looked at Jasmine. “The Savior of legend? Well, I never thought - I never imagined this. That means it’s my time. A new All Father must be chosen, your presence heralds my daughter’s protective barriers on Agrabah being broken. It’s time for me to finally rejoin her in the chaos from whence we were born.”

Jasmine blinked, looking as confused as Emma felt. “Grandfather, what are you talking about? Please, just come with us, or give me more than just this intuition, give me the magic my mother had -" 

"The crown fitted with the diamond in the rough, delivered by the savior unknowingly, in exchange for shining her light on the Darkness. The diamond taking my place, to be seated on the throne with the crown. It was foretold, and now must come to pass before the Darkness is given a new host.” The Djinn stared at Aladdin, Emma trying to puzzle out his cryptic phrases. 

“I need - please, if they’re trying to free Killian from that…” Emma trailed off, unwilling to think about what Killian might be enduring. “Please just help us. If I’m supposed to be some savior, help me!" 

"I am. I have the diamond in hand, and he will be forever embedded in the crown as the prophecy foretells.” The Djinn turned, his eyes fixating on Aladdin. “Your power will be challenged immediately, and for that I am sorry. Take comfort knowing that your reign will be long.”

Aladdin sputtered, looking between Emma and Jasmine. “I don’t know anything about what he’s talking about, can someone please -" 

"You have so much power, Savior, it’s fascinating. It’s as if the solution to the scale tipping is you.” The Genie Father’s dark blue eyes grew darker to a coal black, and Emma felt its magic pulse through her own, as if it rippled through her body. “Light casts no shadow, and can blind those who wield it with reckless abandon as effectively as darkness. Be sure to walk your path with careful steps… I look forward to waking again, if just to hear the end of your tale Princess Emma. For the light loving the darkest recesses where it cannot ever reach is a romantic tragedy worthy of telling.”

His visage became foggy, body falling away like a fading mirage. A stillness fell, as if the entirety of the cavern had hushed in expectation, everything gathering where the Djinn had been. Emma could feel the magic, its pull as it ate itself, condensing in implosion. As soon as she felt it taper into almost non-existence, it exploded outwards, ruffling her hair in its breeze. There were bright flashes of a woman with Jasmine’s eyes, her dark hair streaked with a shock of sky blue. She smiled widely, bouncing a toddler on her knees, the memory changing to a young girl child holding the woman’s hand. She turned, looking back, a perfect miniature of Jasmine. Jasmine gasped from behind where Emma had stood, Aladdin floating slightly as the shimmering copper spots seemed to burn around him. 

The Genie Father laughed, his disembodied voice echoing in the cavern. ��Be great and do things this universe needs. Do not get stuck forgotten beneath the sands, used up and all alone. Learn from my mistakes, and be better than I ever was. So long, Genie Father, leader of the free Djinn. Goodbye, my beloved granddaughter. I hope to one day hear tales of you, as well.”

Aladdin fell to the ground on his hands and knees, eyes closed as the air stopped shimmering around him. The old and ornate lamp on the stone crumbled to dust, and Emma caught the golden glint of a new lamp appearing in Aladdin’s hands. He gaped at it with wide eyes. 

“Aladdin!” Jasmine rushed to his side, pushing him to his side despite his annoyed grunt. 

“What just happened?” he asked, looking deeply confused. She looked him over as he began to grin, staring at her while she fussed over his exposed skin, looking for anywhere he had been hurt.

“I think,” Jasmine said slowly, shaking off her disbelief, “I think he made you the All Father. Which makes you a permanent fixture of my court. You serve as my second, my defense minister, my sorcerer - ”

“I guess you’re stuck with me, eh?” he teased. She only shook her head without speaking and he sighed, grin softening. “Jasmine, I’m -" 

"You have to maintain the barriers, you have to help me keep my people safe, and he just gave it to you without any instruction.” Jasmine’s breathing came quick, her composure falling away to fear. “How could he do this to me, to Agrabah -" 

” Our people,“ Aladdin replied softly. "I have to keep our people safe. And I will, Sultana. I’d fight to my last breath for everyone in Agrabah to have food, and to be protected. I swear to you, I will master the magic we need to keep Agrabah out of harm’s way." 

"You told me the truth and I hated you for it. How can we work together now with everything, all of it between us? This is all too much - ”

“I have faith we will be alright, and faith has gotten me through most of this life. When I didn’t have food, I had faith I would soon. The hope for something better, that spite of living just because dying would be easy - I had faith I would change Agrabah, and change you. I was wrong in the end.” Aladdin cupped Jasmine’s cheek, her face tilting into the touch. “You ended up seeing through me every time I tried to get anything past you. It’s been the most mystifying prospect as a thief to be so easily laid out by you - and not only because of your fortune telling. I did not so much as change you as you changed me.”

“I foresee you stealing my heart from me, Aladdin. Especially now that you are royalty, and no laws have to change for us to be together.” Jasmine’s eyebrow raised slightly, and Emma’s heart ached for Killian. “But first, let’s get back the Princess’ guide.

"Call me Al.” He smirked, and with a snap of his fingers, they stood in the blinding sun of the desert, sand swirling around them. “Let’s go free the Dark One.”

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The trip to wherever they were was arduous; Killian’s feet blistered in his boots and sand stuck to any patch of sweaty skin it could cling to. His captors hadn’t stopped for rest, making it clear that they were happy to let him drag across the scorching sand or jagged outcroppings that made up the steppe. Sand became plains spotted with squat bushes and tall spiked plants, which bled into a wooded marshlands. There was a clear path now which Killian’s feet were grateful for, the faint whispering around him forcing him to raise his head. 

Crumbling homes with tents or shoddy tin, mud, and wood patch jobs lined the road, a cart on its side with a broken axle smashed into one. Children dressed in filth caked rags peeked out from darkened doorways, while shadows creeped to peer out at the newcomer. The village stank, rotten food left out near the square that an older woman added a basket too, a pig and goat happily eating away at it. They were the only ones who seemed to be happy at all, let alone healthy. 

The road curved, a towered structure coming into view. 

“Welcome to Camelot II, Dark One!” Arthur bellowed. “It’s not home yet, but it will be once I repair the legendary blade!”

Killian ignored him as he prattled about the war, refusing to ally with the United Realms, and their subsequent banishment as they walked through the gate into the courtyard. Immediately, servants flocked to help the men down, bringing fresh fruit and water with them. Killian’s mouth watered. 

“Ah, ah, Dark One!” Jafar waved a finger, chewing slowly on a fig. The juice ran down his face, into his twisted beard, Killian deciding very suddenly that he was no longer hungry. “Jawa, Anice, take the Dark One for a bath. I need him thoroughly cleaned.”

Two women came forward, flanked by a large guard who took the rope with a sharp tug. Killian lurched forward, following them with confusion. Why in seven hells was he getting a bath? He dare not complain for it, practically diving in the steaming tub that was filled for him. The women took their task seriously as they scoured his skin with rough cloth, and they were not interested in holding conversation unless it was to snap at the other. 

They rubbed him in oils when he stepped out onto the woven towel, leaving him bare but for it. Not giving him anything to wear, they led him into a darkened room that emanated a strange green glow. A glass wall filled with swirls of brown and green hypnotized Killian, like something watched him from its depths, catching him in the cross hairs. 

In the murky waters of the tank, something stirred. A dark tentacle met the glass, toothed suction cups scraping against it with a loud screech. A great yellow eye opened, something chittering as bubbles churned. Ink flooded the water making it impossible to see the thing that lay within, the tubes leading from the tank filling with black that poured neatly into a large beaker. 

“We’ve spared no luxury for your stay with us, Dark One.” Jafar smiled, appearing behind him with the other two not far behind. “Kraken ink, an unlimited supply given at will. It makes it easy to keep you docile while we work on extracting the Darkness from you.”

Killian tried not to focus on the hands strapping him down on the table, or the clatter of tools as Jafar laughed with other men. 

“Hades, Arthur, are you both ready?” Jafar practically purred. “First incision, with ink at the ready. Wound closure test one, with 60ml of ink applied topically on the left.”

The burn he felt took his breath away, the Darkness shrieking under his skin as the ink paralyzed it further. It bit into his muscles and tried to escape from around the wound, blood flowing freely without its cauterizing. He focused on the dripping ceiling above him and watched the shadows cast from the torches’ light, trying to hold himself together. 

“The Darkness is not healing the laceration, as predicted,” a low voice commented. “May I?" 

"Go ahead Hades. I have to prepare poisons, and Arthur has to get his machines ready.” Jafar was smiling, Killian was sure of it. A finger prodded the wound, his throat tightening with the need to scream. A needle pricked his forearm, ink beginning to pump through his bloodstream in earnest. 

“Alright. Preparing for reaction to flame, magical and otherwise.” The voice that belonged to Hades seemed giddy with excitement now. “Test one of six hundred and twenty four: coals placed within bodily cavities. First, the chest cavity. Administered ink intravenously to prevent rapid regeneration.”

A sharp pain shot through his chest, a knife sliding across his sternum. Hands began prying him open, his lips finally able to part as he let out a howl. The ink cut him off as his ribs cracked, the sound coming to a stop while Hades started the slow process of burning every part of his body. 

It seemed to go on for days as he drifted away, the Darkness focused on healing what it could and learning about its captors. A new, more malleable and pliant vessel suited its needs, and Killian could feel its delight at the idea even though the haze of pain. 

He breathed his own ash, Hades throwing him in a dank cell where rats scattered from the place he landed, his chest only recently healed from the hot coals they had forced inside. 

“Heal up, Arthur has many tests to perform,” Hades said in his low, mirthless intonation. 

Killian curled into a ball, shivering. If Arthur’s chosen methods were anything like Hades, the violations would make his worst nightmares seem warm. When he heard Hades’ footsteps cease as a heavy door closed, he began to laugh, his dry and cracked wheeze full of charcoal dust. Madness was setting in already, and he had promised, promised - 

Emma. 

Her name snapped him back, the idea of a vessel capable of taking this curse away worth any torment the world could devise. His mind drifted to where there had been absence, now filled again with her, nothing but his desire to leave a man no longer tethered to the Darkness. He could almost hear her voice, feel her gentle fingers in his hair or her lips against the corner of his mouth. 

Another voice broke through his reverie. 

“Are you the newest Dark One then?” a man asked from the cell across from his, the iron criss crossing bars and dim light obscuring their identity. “You are in for a long and unpleasant stay, creature. Not as if you don’t deserve this, but I suppose even after all this time I can muster a sliver of pity.”

Killian grunted, sitting up. 

The voice continued, despite Killian’s obvious attempts at ignoring it. 

“I’m surprised you don’t recognize me, or that it doesn’t recognize me, I suppose. We were such close companions when I summoned it into this world.” The man let out a sigh. “Of course, it’s only a scrap of what it was, it seems -" 

The Darkness took control with ease, Killian unable to leash it in his weakened state. 

"You know nothing about me, sorcerer,” it hissed through his mouth, its voice dry and gritted. “You, ever the hypocrite, should not question my strength… or your own weakness." 

The Darkness felt hot under his skin, as if it was boiling while it healed him, wanting to lunge from his bones and blood to attack the other prisoner. 

"History is doomed to repeat itself, it would seem. That I do know, and I say it with the utmost disrespect to you,” the man laughed, quietly. “When you are destroyed again, and your vessel dies because of it, I hope this time you cease to be.”

“LIES!” the Darkness screeched, Killian’s throat raw after it quieted, his panting breaths deep. 

Before he could process the words, he was forced to lean forward, then backwards into the stone wall with enough force to send him into unconsciousness. 

He woke to the man still talking, his head throbbing and mouth dry. He could feel the Darkness seething, its agitation coming in waves. 

He won’t shut up, shut him UP 

“Is it telling you to silence me?” the man asked, sounding bored. “It does that when I tell it truth. The Darkness does not like honesty, especially from old Merlin here.”

“You’re Merlin?” Killian rasped, his head throbbing. 

Don’t talk to him 

The sorcerer is a LIAR 

Silence him, slit his throat, cut out his tongue, just make him quiet! 

“Indeed I am,” came the reply, with a hint of amusement. “My reputation precedes me, I presume." 

"I must get rid of it, this curse,” Killian pulled himself closer to the bars, resting his head on the stone wall to keep from touching the iron bars. “Please, help me. I read your journals, I know that you were sure there wasn’t a way to end the Darkness, but there must be -" 

"There is no way. I’m sorry,” Merlin swallowed hard, his voice softening. “And because of what you are, you’ll break the ones around you. I loved a Dark One. I know how selfish, how cruel you can be. You can’t be saved… I couldn’t save her because a Dark One can’t love ." 

"I did. I do! Emma and I -" 

"If you have even the smallest bit of doubt, it is too dangerous. It will destroy everything you touch. It stains.” His voice took on a tone of tenderness, wavering slightly. “My love - Nimue tried, she desperately tried, but it consumed her seeking its own devices. If it had the shard and its freedom, you wouldn’t be able to stop it." 

Killian shook his head, the Darkness cackling as it tore him apart to put him back together. "You don’t know that. They can take it from me, and separate it from me -" 

"It needs a host. You two are bonded by powers almost as old as time, heat, cold: instincts. It is part of you, and only death can free you. One special kind of death - even if it takes a new host.”

“No,” Killian let the word fall from his lips like a plea. “They will take it from me. I will be free of this!" 

The sorcerer is right, for once

All she will be is a toy when you are gone, and I have a better vessel to control… 

"I wish you could be, but it’s not the case. You’ll hurt everyone you love, the Darkness only gets stronger the more you try peeling it back. It drove Nimue mad." 

"We could be different. You don’t know!" 

Images of Emma flooded his mind, the Darkness clawing at them. He couldn’t imagine life without her, but imagining her suffering because of him, his abuse pushed by the Darkness and growing more unstable - it tore him apart. Merlin had said the Darkness stained. Had he stained her? 

"You can have all the hope of a different outcome, but it will be the same. Nimue went at it with me in a full on rage, the need for power too much. I couldn’t risk her hurting anyone else, so I ended her life after it consumed her entirely. I loved her, desperately so. She didn’t believe in True Love, but I thought she was mine.” Merlin paused, wistful as he swallowed hard. “Don’t put your Emma through that, especially if you think you’ll hurt her before she can stop you." 

And you will hurt her. She can’t save you. 

"I wouldn’t, I never -" 

"I’m willing to bet you have, Dark One.” Merlin sighed. “As long as you have doubt, the Darkness will win. Without the dagger’s control, you are still only just a puppet to its whims. I’m sorry.”

Silence but for the wind, dripping water, and the rattle of chains echoed through the cells, Merlin going quiet. 

The sorcerer is right about that 

You are my puppet. You will destroy her. 

“It said you were a liar,” Killian blurted out. “What is it scared of, can it at least be destroyed -" 

The Darkness howled, his jaw clenching shut. His body buckled, and he could now see Merlin through the gloom as his head hit the damp floor. He was tall, dark eyes sad as his lips curled into a pitying grimace. 

"It can be destroyed, and sent away. I know it can,” Merlin turned away, walking out of Killian’s view. “I ran experiments; I thought - I thought I had the answer. I thought an element as ancient as it, the fundamental pillars of magic if you will, could break it. The Promethean Flame, The Philosopher’s Stone, the tears of a dying Goddess, first of her name. They all should work to destroy the Vorpal Dagger.”

“Then why didn’t you -" 

"I couldn’t destroy it completely because it was bound to Nimue. I loved her, and it made me blind. She died for it to live, until your birth as the Dark One awoke it again. I was there that night, on the cliffs. It was supposed to be the Goblin King holding the power, and keeping her alive.”

“You fought on their side? Against your own -" 

"I did. The war was a complexity I couldn’t untangle myself from. I know now neither side was in the right.”

“You helped him? He stole women, he raped them, he massacred those men -" 

"You are too young to know what the Goblins went through. It’s been all but erased from time, impossible to find except in a few unedited texts that Arthur owns, and the Goblin’s own recounted history. This is what they were made to do." 

"What are you talking about? They killed -" 

A rattle and creaking of a door silenced him, Jafar grinning as he opened Killian’s cell. "My turn, Dark One. I hope Merlin has warmed up that mind of yours. I have some lovely treats for it.”

Killian was led away, fighting weakly, still not completely healed. Pushed roughly onto a table, Jafar readied neatly placed bottles of different sizes and colors, next to several different syringes. 

“Shall we?” he purred. “I have a neurotoxin I have been dying to see the effects of." 

There was a jab in his arm, and Killian felt the burn of something entering his veins. Bright sparks began to play behind his eyes almost immediately, his body beginning to convulse. He took a gulp of air when the Darkness brought him back from death, his eyes closed tight, peace just within sight but never within reach. 

He couldn’t hear Jafar now, could barely feel the needles or poisons rushing into him to eat away at his organs. His broken mind focused on one single thought, holding its fragile light close. 

Emma. Emma. Emma. 

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The bandit camp came into view as Emma spat out the shells of dried cocoa beans off the side of the carpet. They’d been flying for days, stopping only if needed for quick sustenance, bartering for information, or other needs. They finally found one of the compounds Jafar was fond of using accidentally, a drunken and shouting group of men talking about the take over in less than hushed voices. It was easy enough to follow their camels until the sandstone buildings and tents caught the light of the horizon. 

What Emma hadn’t expected was the projectiles launched at them, the carpet diving into a rolling dodge. They plummeted from the sky only to straighten a few feet from the ground. Emma panted, as Jasmine and Aladdin heaved in breath, the three of them gripping the carpet tightly as it continued forward. They arrived at the western side of the camp quietly, their weapons in hand. 

Stepping out, her palms crackling, Emma felt a surge within her. Light surrounded her, magic pulled from the very air, the first man who realized something was amiss hitting the ground when her green eyes met his. She watched him wither, feeling oddly detached as Jasmine and Aladdin fought ahead of her. Or they did, until she drew near and more bodies fell to the ground. It felt wonderful to be so powerful, to look at the men with deep shadows in their eyes and scarred skin and know they lay on the ground because of her. They weren’t quite dead, but they were most definitely not as alive as they were. 

Trailing her fingers along the rough clay walls, the texture made her irritated by the lack of care they had put into making this home for themselves. It was carelessly crafted with no artisanry, the sheer utilitarianism of its lack of beauty unacceptable. The fire that jumped from her skin was white and golden tinted cream, shooting up the structure. 

Emma moved inwards, pressing through the smoke. "Killian?” she called out, but no answer came outside of the men who roared at her in rage. They all fell within moments, as if an unseen creature had bowled them over. Clucking her tongue, Emma stepped over them daintily. 

She turned the corner to find Jasmine talking to a terrified looking younger man, his face just starting to grow hair. They were speaking rapidly in what sounded like a mix of Agrabaric and something Emma could not identify, his finger pointing to where she stood as he screamed in fright. Jasmine turned to look, and seeing Emma, sighed. 

“He’s afraid you’re going to kill him.” Jasmine shrugged at her as Aladdin rounded a corner closer to where the young man was tied. 

Aladdin laughed, and kneeled to look at him. “Tell him she could kill him either way, but for the chance of a less painful death, or possibly no dying at all, he should answer.”

Jasmine hissed something sinister sounding  Emma could not quite understand, although she recognized the clear words for 'painful dying’ well enough. The man broke down into frantic speech, crying in deep gasps when he finished. 

Jasmine laughed slightly, motioning for them all to leave. 

“He said that they sent an envoy to Camelot II when they saw us arrive. The Dark One is held not too far from here, but he warns that the three plan to use him to transfer the Darkness to -” Jasmine blinked in surprise, looking back at Emma who fidgeted anxiously. “Killian has a brother?" 

Emma’s mouth opened, and she blinked in confusion. "No, he had a brother, an older brother. Liam. He died in the War.”

The man began to babble, animatedly pointing to Emma, and she heard the name Liam several times in his speech.

Jasmine’s brow furrowed, and she looked back at Emma. “He says this is Liam, the younger brother of the Dark One. He doesn’t know of any other brother to the Darkness. Are you sure Emma? Because he swears -" 

"I don’t care what he swears on, he’s wrong. Liam is dead, he died and - just ask him the way to Killian!” Emma snapped, her power making her hurt with how much it wanted to be used, as if a current ran through her body. Jasmine’s frown deepened, and Aladdin stepped between them with an uneasy smile. 

“Emma, maybe you should take a moment -" 

"I can’t - Liam was - Liam and Elsa are dead, and if Killian dies, if he -" 

"He’s going to be fine. We’re only a few days behind them, he will have held on, alright? I see the way he looks at you Emma. He will hold on until you get there,” He approached cautiously, wincing slightly. Looking down, she realized the ground around her had begun to crackle with the glow of her magic. Aladdin glowed a light blue himself as if he was wading through a river. “Please, calm down.”

Emma took a deep breath, steadying herself, pulling her power back as well as she could. Everything screamed against it, begging her to punish those who had done wrong, whispering how she could purify this land. Emma blocked it out, focusing on Killian. She could almost hear him, a feeling of grief washing over her. 

Emma. Emma. Emma. 

Jasmine ended her conversation, nodding towards the carpet. “I got it. Let’s go." 

Emma hesitated just a moment, looking at the man who trembled on the ground. She walked toward him, and whispered a word she hoped he understood. 

"Run." 

He fled, Emma walking towards the carpet where her friends waited. Dispelling the energy she’d been holding, the structure crumbled as flame burst from the ground, the heat blistering, blindingly bright and booming bursts of explosion rocking the ground as she joined them. 

No one said anything as they flew away from what once was the encampment, now no more than a smoldering crater in the sands. 

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Killian was thrown back into the cell more dead than alive, cycling through consciousness until he was healed enough to maintain it. In many ways he wished he had stayed in the relief of the dark, the poisons Jafar had used left him confused, suffering hallucinations, and left him lying in his own sick multiple times. 

"Who could ever love you?” Emma whispered, her throat cut by his own hand, heart beating rapidly in his other. “Go ahead. Crush it. Kill me, just like you thought you did - like you wanted to.”

His mouth tasted awful, his brain unsure if it was the twisted Emma’s kiss, or his own bile rising. 

Liam appeared, fussing over him while Elsa shrieked at him to join them, faces pressing themselves close enough that his thin eyelids weren’t enough to keep them at bay. 

“Just die Killian,” Elsa breathes in his ear, the cold air freezing his cheek. “It only hurt for a moment, and now it only hurts when the air goes through me. It’s that hole in my chest, it just lets the draft in!” she laughed, cackling. 

Milah fell away at his fingertips, turning to dust that sent him retching, his mother’s rotted palm clammy against his forehead.

“Hush my sweet boy. Hush. Mummy loves you sweet Killian boy…" 

The visions paraded through the cell until they were few, his breath not coming in gasps or pants and his eyes not blurring or falling away to kaleidoscopic fractals. 

He turned his head, rolling to move out of the damp mess he had created. When he looked up, a new visage sat watching him. His father, looking worn and weary even in this younger appearance, stared at him. 

"What do you want, phantom? Could they not send me Liam instead of you?" 

The ghoul cocked its head, but moved closer. "I’m Liam.”

Killian barked out a laugh, shaking his head. “No. Liam was a better man than you ever were. Liam was everything good, and you and I, we… were everything wrong .”

“I’m not that Liam. He was dead after I was born.” The phantom paused. “Do you think I’m Papa? You killed our other brother. I know all about everything wrong you did, Papa told me so. I don’t expect either would haunt you, you’re a disgrace.”

The words settled heavily over him, and Killian tried to process them. He could see the differences now, the skinny and sallow cheeks hiding the curve of Liam’s - his Liam’s - jawline, the eyes of their father set deep under furrowed brow. If the scrap of a man had been fed better and had not had a slightly different nose, he could have passed for a scrawny version of himself with Liam’s face and hair. 

But then, Father had named him for Liam’s memory, so as a child, as a babe even, he must have taken after their oldest sibling. The idea of his father siring another child made Killian’s stomach churn, his head still stinging from the nerves knitting back together. 

“How did -” Killian hesitated, trying to make sense of this development. “Did he abandon you, too? Fall to drink and beat you? Did you run here? I can - " 

"Abandon me?” Liam asked with incredulous laughter. His smile darkened, eyes glinting. “No. He got sick, Ma cared for him best she could until he died. Papa was patient. I don’t remember him drinking but he smoked a pipe a lot. He started all of this, with his hatred of nobility and what became of his sons. He said you both died in the war, but you died a coward. You were supposed to lead us until it was discovered how dearly you care for your princess.”

Killian swallowed hard. “Of course. Of course it was that simple to him.” Mumbling, Killian laid his aching head back on the stone wall. “He - Father was technically right. We both died in the war, I just came back as this. The remnants of a coward’s choice, even if it wasn’t mine." 

"It doesn’t matter now, does it?” Liam sneered. 

Killian shook his head slowly, before catching Liam’s eyes. “No, I suppose it doesn’t. Are you still sure you want to take it? To be filled with this Darkness, and become a coward yourself? 

"I would never - Will never be a coward like you are. You follow that prancing princess and all these rules of good form and noble intentions,” Liam spat, his lips curled in disgust. “I will live hand and hand with the Darkness as we remake this world in the image of the Blackwater. I’ll go back and reclaim our lineage -”. 

“No one has ever done anything hand in hand with the Darkness. It uses you, until you are empty. It will hollow you out,” Killian stated with bitterness. “I ask again, do you want this? Do you not have anyone that you wish to protect? It will hurt them, no matter how hard you try.”

Liam did not answer. 

Killian sat in the silence, until Liam spoke quietly. 

“Anyone?” Killian nodded. “Even family?" 

"Especially family,” Killian admitted, unable to hide the sorrow in his voice. “I killed my brother as I begged to stop. The Darkness reveled in it. It laughed while I broke, as I screamed for it to spare him. Do you - are there more of - do you have more siblings? Is your mum…?”

“Still alive? Yeah, she’ll live another thousand years just to be around, pull'n me by the ear. She’s a terror. Papa said she was scarier than the sea and hell combined. They loved each other though, and me. It’s just us. She misses him a lot." 

"I'm…” Killian swallowed hard again, a strange whirlwind of emotion going through his mind. 

“You don’t need to be sorry or any of that shit.” Liam grunted, then spat at the floor. “You don’t owe anything to me or to Papa. You may have made Papa ashamed, but I didn’t - and I can’t wait to destroy everything for this cause. I’ll have the Darkness at my control in no time." 

"You’ll die too then,” Killian whispered, shrugging. Liam tensed, his shoulders rising as his fists balled. “By Fath - by his standards I’m dead. You will be the end of the Jones men. It’s history repeating itself as usual - I killed my Liam, and now you, the new Liam, will kill me. Then in turn the Darkness will take over, and kill you. I’ll damn your soul gratis as I die, two Liams ended by my hand. Father will be ever so proud.”

“Shut up,” Liam hissed. He stood, leaving with a slam of the cell’s heavy door. 

Killian laughed lightly, still unable to stop as he scrubbed his face. Merlin was either quiet or somewhere else, the stillness eerie as the wind outside howled. 

Closing his eyes, he dreamt of being free, the Darkness too tired and hopeful itself to try and stop him. 

Footsteps woke him later, the time indeterminate while he slept. He could hear Arthur’s laugh before his boots even came close, Merlin groaning as he was thrown back into the cell across from his. His own door rattled, and Killian resisted the urge to open his eyes. Heavy hands forced him up by his hair, his eyes squinting open to stare at Arthur’s grinning face. 

“Time to play, Dark One.” Arthur began to walk, the man holding Killian by his scalp dragging Killian along behind his path. “I have a fascination with Mortal implements of torture. I can’t wait to see what my updates for them will look like, and how they will work on Fae. I had to get Goblins to do the iron working, I wanted it perfect.”

Something creaked loudly, metal clanging. 

“Since you seem to be so tired, we’ll let you rest for a bit. Liam told me you were crying for your princess too, so I managed to get you some company - she’s a fine maiden, but a bit steely.” Arthur chuckled, and Killian was shoved into a dark space. His back hit spikes, the iron sharp. “Enjoy the embrace of the iron maiden, mate .”

The door closed, and Killian heard the crunch of his just healed ribs. He screamed, listening to Arthur laughing in glee. 

It didn’t last long, the door opened only after a few hours and he was wrenched out, Arthur pouting. “ You didn’t scream for very long. How disappointing.”

Killian was thrown on a rough wooden table, his body stripped of the dirty clothing. Cold water was thrown on him as his wounds attempted to close, a rough scrubbing given to him by the same brute that had thrown him around. 

“This though, this is my pride and joy.” Something was attached to him, then another. Suctioned pieces stuck on  his skin in various places. “It’s a machination for torture, meant to hurt more than any magics or physical torment in the Realms. Merlin was forced to help me design it, and I must say, I hope his work is nothing short of masterful. Now, don’t hold it in this time.”

Something clicked, and Killian’s eyes shot open. He screamed, unable to stop, the pain shot up his nerves and down his spine as if he was being torn apart cell by cell. The Darkness fell away, watching something do its work far more efficiently. 

It stopped, Arthur talking to someone he couldn’t see. 

“What sort of message? Can’t you see I’m busy -" 

The messenger dismounted from the carpet while Killian took advantage of the respite, sucking in hissed gulps of air. The binds at his ankles and wrists had rubbed the skin raw, but his head and chest were the worst, burning in a horrific fire like pain. Arthur bellowed out a laugh that trailed into a dark chuckle. 

"Oh, now this… This is too rich. Sit down, Gilead." 

The messenger sat dutifully, and Killian struggled to flinch back when Arthur slowly walked back to the machine. 

"I must tell you, your obstinacy and impudence so far has been honorable. No one will say that you aren’t strong of mind.” Arthur paused, his grin wide. “ However , ever since I discovered the Darkness was so close to the surface, I have wondered how strong is the heart attached to it. To keep your princess alive for so long, against all odds and your own interests, well.” He smirked, laughing again. “I thought how weak you must be, if I could just figure out what was special about her. Did you covet her kingdom? Her power? Proximity to her parents and those who wronged you?" 

Killian grunted, Arthur cranking the lever to stretch him taut again. The piece of wood in his mouth suddenly felt too dry, Arthur’s mentions of Emma putting him in a state of unease he hadn’t felt before. 

"Alas, now I see how simple it actually is. Or, more aptly, was . You did not deserve how much she loved you. Lucky for us, that has been rectified. The princess has been removed from the situation." 

The words didn’t settle on his pain hazed mind right away, his noise behind the gag in his mouth at first in disbelief. Arthur laughed heartily, motioning for the messenger to sit up. 

"Come here Gilead. Tell The Dark One what you told me." 

The curly haired redhead stepped towards his master, gulping before speaking in a reedy voice. 

"Princess Emma of the United Realms was spotted approaching the Eastern compound near Agrabah with at least one other companion, possibly two. Our wizard took care of her.” The boy, he was more boy than man Killian could see now, mimed something crashing to the ground, Killian’s heart stopping. 

Arthur roared with laughter, almost doubled over. 

“You know, I meant what I said. You didn’t deserve how much Emma loved you,” he sneered, waving his man away. “It was sickening really, once I realized you two were always staring at each other or bickering. Yearning like some courtiers fresh out of finishing. It’s a shame that neither of us had a chance with her. She would have been a feisty little -" 

Killian lunged, the Darkness roaring out of him as if he was nothing but its rage. Dark shadow fell around him, flowed through him, his hands shaking in the straps before he freed himself from one of his restraints. Arthur backed away, just out of reach. 

Emma. 

The name was an endless array of emotions that made him crazy, the Darkness irritated, and part of him mourned. 

Emma, no. Not - 

Let me go, let me take a new vessel, you sniveling coward 

Die with your silly heart breaking, weakling fool! 

Emma, his Emma, if she was - he couldn’t bear the thought. 

The Darkness continued its pressure, tendrils of it exploding outward. Arthur let the machine run, doing its worst as Killian broke, Emma’s name on his lips.

"She died thinking she could save you, wanting to see you one more time. It’s your fault, but from what I’ve heard, that’s usually how this happens for you, isn’t it? Milah, Elsa, and now Emma - I know about them all. Your little princess was so worried about you when she thought she could confide in me. I wonder if she knew you would fail her like this?” Arthur laughed, Gilead clearing his throat to mumble something, his master’s head snapping to look at him. “Quiet, imbecile. Have respect for the dead." 

Let go, vessel. Give in. She no longer waits for you. 

Give me control. She’s gone, you have nothing. 

She wouldn’t want that. She would have wanted you to be strong, she loved you - the real you - not what you were when the Darkness won out - and even then she loved you, Darkness and all, despite of everything. She would have fought for you, and now you have to fight - 

She’s dead. What she would have wanted doesn’t matter anymore, she plummeted to her death because of you. You were her literal downfall, vessel. She tried to save you, but you can’t be saved. It’s better this way. I would have killed her in a much more personal manner if she had survived. 

"Poor, poor Dark One,” Arthur sneered. “I can’t wait for you to break. The Darkness damns you even after death - poor sweet Emma is lost to you forever.”

It’s better that way, vessel. This is all for the best. 

You were weak, and she died for it. It’s time to let me go, and for you to join the Darkness in eternity. 

Far off, he heard the gentle noise of her voice, calling out to him. He wouldn’t let go yet, not until he knew for certain she was gone. 

Emma. Emma. Emma. 

Emma. 

[limitededitionsanderssidesblog]

The Stacks - Chapter 2

Ships: Eventual logicality and prinxiety, slow burn

Summary:  In this society there is a place where the poor and unwanted are placed and kept hidden away from everyone else, where poverty and crime are a frequent and life shines for no one. Stacked up high in the sky, this is the furthest anyone living there will ever reach. When a Depression consumes the land, and the government fails to bring an end to it, society turns even further on the residents of the Stacks, accusing them for bringing the rest of them down. What no one knows, however, is that it'll take the work of four unlikely people to not only bring an end to the poverty, but also to this inequality.

Chapter One Next AO3 - Here

Patton still remembers the very first day he met Virgil. He had been seventeen years of age and working in a bakery in the higher, low end of the city in district thirteen, just before the Stacks. He was living alone in an abandoned school bus, where he was still living today. After one of his workshifts had ended he had come home to find an eleven year old boy hiding under one of the seats. He wore a dirty pair of overalls covered in holes and no shirt or shoes.

When Patton tried to get close to him he hissed and crawled further away under the seats. There was something almost feral about the boy, as if he had been raised by animals rather than humans. It had taken several days, but Patton was eventually able to get him out from under the seats and fed him some old stale bread, with the moldy bits ripped off.

It turned out that the local gang had been after him for not paying his safety fees and he had ran away and hid to avoid them. Wanting to help, Patton gave the money to Virgil to help him clear his debt, which had been his entire paycheck.

From there on Patton had decided to take the young boy under his wing and sort of adopt him in a way. Right away he knew that Virgil had been without his parents for some time, how long Patton wouldn’t know for years to come, so he decided to take their place as his parental figure. Patton stitched and patched up Virgil's overalls, washing them as well. When he had gotten the money, he took him out to buy the first shirt he had owned in years. Seeing the joy of a child for something so simple as a piece of clothing warmed his heart beyond comparison. From then on Patton had made it his mission from then on to give Virgil a good life, one without wanting and hardship.

He got a second job and worked tiring hours, exhausting himself from the labor, but he didn’t give in. Patton was constantly looking for an apartment or studio home, nothing to fancy, but a home that a good future could be built upon. For months he had his eyes on a small one bedroom and bathroom apartment for sale in the tenth district. There was a school close by where Virgil could attend, a small park was three blocks away where he could play, it was perfect. After saving his money for years locked under a floorboard in the bus, hidden by a newspaper carpet, as robberies were practically a daily frequent in the Stacks, Patton had raised up enough money to buy the place.

Then the Depression hit.

Prices everywhere skyrocketed. A loaf of bread became four times the price it once had been. Because of this the gangs raised their prices as well. Patton had drained practically all of his savings in a matter of months, and the apartment was long out of his reach. The bakery where he used to work went out of business, and Patton was left with only one job that was only able to feed him one meal a day after taxes and gang payments were taken care of.

The life that was once just within arms reach, was now a whole world apart. Yet, Virgil didn’t seem to mind that they couldn’t get the apartment and was happy to live with him in that rusty, old bus. Patton was never able to tell if he was just being strong for him, or if he actually was okay with it.

However, hearing the words that he had spoken last night, Patton knew that he wasn’t okay with it.

Coming back to his bus, the rows of seats long since removed and sold for a little extra cash, Patton noticed that the twins were already asleep, so he simply put their food down on a small three-legged table, and went to sleep himself. Virgil had gone straight to his own crate once they had arrived, taking his food from Patton with a smile and a thank you. He had moved out from the bus two years ago, claiming he wanted to give Patton his space, but he doubted that was the real reason.

After Virgil had left him alone in the school bus, Patton had decided to adopt these twins when their father had been wrongly put in prison for an accused crime he never committed. He hadn’t know their father all that well, but he knew for a fact that he would never kill someone. So until he got out, he would take care of the boys. If he ever got out.

…

Once again he had taken another hounding at the latest press conference by the reporters who held little faith in him and his abilities, and demanded he create change practically overnight. But from what Logan had learned from his years in politics is that no resolutions is so easily made. The election that had won him the seat as senator had been a close one, and a near fifty percent of the province still didn’t believe someone so young could do anything for them. In spite of that, the depression had been raging for almost four years with no sign of ending, in fact it had been growing under the policies of a government composed almost completely by older people who have never face an economic downturn in their lives. All they had ever known was strict rules and prosperity, and now, because of their fixed mindset, they were driving the nation into the ground.

The fact that he had replaced much of his staff with young minds had upset many of the other senators and position holders. Many of his colleagues saw him as too radical, but he was determined to make a difference, starting in his province. As long as he didn’t give them a firm reason to remove him from office, he’ll take any necessary steps to fix this situation.

Logan worked behind his desk for hours, trying to find ways to bring down the jobless rate, looking through proposed bills and deciding whether or not to bring them before the senate. Many of the bills were a fool’s dream, unrealistic and improbable, yet some had promise.

“Sir?” A voice called through his desk speaker. Logan pushed the red button on the device down to respond.

“Yes, Johnathan?”

“You’re new head of security has arrived in the lobby. Would you like me to show him to his office?” His secretary asked.

“No, no, I shall do it myself.” He said to the machine, standing from his chair. “Notify him that I’m on my way down.”

“Yes, sir.”

It had been a long two weeks, what with transfering Roman from the police over to his office building, dismissing the old head of security, and dealing with backfire from the media for doing so. He could use a minute to step out for a bit.

Escaping his suffocating office, Logan strode down to the bottom floor secretary’s desk, where Roman had been waiting with a large cardboard box of personal items. Unless Logan was hallucinating, the box looked awfully a lot like the one clockmaker had thrown at him.

As he walked over, the regal, former, cop raised his head at the sound of footsteps and stood to greet him.

“Welcome Roman, I trust you have everything you need?” Logan said to him.

“Yep, and more!” Roman responded with a large goofy grin, taking a small, rubber stress toy out of the box and giving it a light squeeze, causing it to squeak. Logan rolled his eyes and turned to the elevators to take them up to where the awaiting office was located a floor below his.

Ever since college, Roman has had the eccentricity and energy of an adolescent. With Roman being a first year studying for a Criminology major and Logan being a third year with an almost complete Social Science and Economics major when they first met, he had found his behavior to be unusual and had expected it to just be a phase of excitement for his entry into University. Nevertheless, throughout the rest of their college experience together, and their friendship away from work, Roman had always been like this.

However, that is not all there was to the man. Logan has witnessed first hand the professional side of Roman. He is determined and relentless when presented with a case. Roman’s skills and resources far out match even his own, and if rubbed the wrong way, Roman could be a troublesome foe. These are the qualities that were needed in the city right now. The crime rate of the capital city was at an all time high, and the second highest in the nation. Their province have been the laughing stock in the Senate for years and the police force has been labeled as incompetent. It was Logan’s job, now Roman’s, to turn that around.

Arriving on the fourth floor Logan walked out into a large, opened hallway, five half-glass offices on each side, with ten half moon desks in the center outside each door. The senator led his friend and new colleague to the third office down on the right.

“This,” He waved his arm around the room, bringing him in, “Is your new office.” The room was already furnish with a large, executive desk and armchair, a smaller chair to the side, a wide filing cabinet, and bookshelf. The only thing left for Roman to do was unpack, settle in, and get to work.

“To your left is the Secretary of the Province, Brian Lee, to the right is Treasurer Selene Carter, and your personal assistant,” Logan gestured to the woman at the desk outside the office, “Is Diana Meyers.” Roman nodded along and peered around the room, admiring the open space and glass walls with it’s blinds drawn for privacy. “I gave your assistant all the important files you’ll be needing left over from the last head of security, they’ll deliver them to you when you’ve settled in.” Roman tread over to his new desk to set down his box of personals, seemingly getting comfortable, “If that’s all, then I shall take my leave-”

“Logan.” Roman spoke up, turning back to face his new superior, and old friend. “Thank you, for this I mean.”

Logan loosed for a moment, letting go of his serious composure and allowing himself to relax. He flashed Roman a nod and a smile, saying “You’re very welcome.”, before turning to head back to his own office, leaving Roman to unpack his belongings and start work whenever he’s ready and able.

As he walked back to the elevators and further, several other officers and lower workers greeted him and paid their respects. Offering compliments or offers of assistance.

Shortly after becoming the senator for the province of Flor, Logan had learned that this would be a nearly everyday occurance. Many, but not all, co-workers, colleagues, and subordinates would kiss up to him in hope of a raise, promotion, or good faith. Often times Logan wouldn’t know who he could truly put his trust in, who was being earnest with him or who was being fake. It seems that the more influence one has, the more they tend to become used. Logan needed someone he could trust, Roman was a start, but it wasn’t enough yet.

“Sir, your butler just called,” Johnathan announced as he walked past the secretary’s desk, “He wanted to let you know that your advertisement for a new personal chef was successfully placed in the newspaper.”

“Thank you, Johnathan, keep up the work.” He replied stoically and entered his office, closing the door behind him.

The piles of paper worked stood menacingly on his desk, appearing to have grown during his short breather. With a tired sigh and a grimace, Logan sat down in his leather seat and got back into the toil, working late again as usual.

…

The city streets of the eleventh district were buzzing as usual with heavy machinery and labor, as it was the main industrial district of the city. Rock was being cut, wood was being chopped, metal was being melted down; all the heavy types of industry were hard at work making noise. Of all the fourteen districts of Flor’s capital, Fauna, the eleventh was the best place to find, or steal, scrap metal and material for his clocks.

Currently, Virgil was dumpster diving outside a silver and steel manufacturing lot, finding nuts and bolts that he could make use of. This had been a common thing for him to do ever since he was little. Granted, it was searching for food that he used to climb into trash cans, but the thousands of repeated dives in the garbage nulled his disgust for it a long time ago. Besides, everything was free here.

Whilst digging through the thrown away trash he found a handle sticking out from a torn bag. Pulling the handle out, Virgil was delighted to find a professionally made power saw with a broken cord. If he could get the right supplies he could probably fix the broken cord.

“Hey! Get outta here!” A booming voice roared over the sound of machines. Whipping his head up, Virgil saw a security guard running his way.

Ripping his backpack open and shoving the saw inside, Virgil climbed out the dumpster and bolted away, the security guard hot on his heels. Trying to make his escape he lead them into an alley where he knew a sewer opening was hidden under a pile of empty beer bottles. Once there, he pushed the bottles to the side, and jumped down into the colverless manhole, pulling a nearby trash bag over to hide the sewer opening. Virgil made sure not to make a noise until he heard the security guard leave.

Footsteps came into the alley before halting to a stop, there was some pacing before the footsteps started to retreat.

“Filthy dumpster rat.” The man cursed as he left.

Virgil waited a few moments more before climbing up the ladder, peeking his head out to scan the area before he crawled out completely. With one last look around Virgil left the alley and headed down the street.

That wasn’t the first time he had gotten in trouble with the security, and it most certainly won’t be the last. People around here didn’t like scavengers roaming around in their trash and would often chase them away with a metaphorical broom.

But at least it was safer to do so in this district than the other ones. The twelfth and eleventh districts were the closest to the Stacks, the fourteenth district, and therefore weren’t as funded as the others, making their security and police force easier to get around. But the closer you get to the city center, and the further from the Stacks, the police force is doubled, then tripled, and you can get arrested just for looking at a rich man wrong. Virgil once spent the night in jail for ‘causing’ a man in a hurry to drop his briefcase and spill his papers.

That’s just what life was like for those who came from the Stacks, and you could always tell when someone did. Stackers all had a distinct look: dirt poor. If you had holes in your clothes, dirt caked on your skin, old worn out shoes, or no shoes at all, it was a safe bet to say where you came from. However, out of all that, there was another trait that was more noticeable than all the rest: a loss of hope. In the eyes of all its residents there was familiar look that was held in each one, no matter if it was covered, denied, or accepted, that look came from a knowledge that there was no way out. The depression may have struck the nation three years ago, but it had been thriving in the Stacks since their creation.

The original economical idea for the Stacks was to move poverty into a singular, concentrated area with a small percentage of the population to keep it there. But as the years passed, that percentage began to grow beyond its initial barriers by building upwards, and the depression began to spread as an infecting virus. Now, because this abomination made to fix the economy was now breaking it, the rest of society turned on the stackers as the cause for their damnation.

Virgil had been born fifty years after its creation and was now living through the rear ass of the worst economic crisis in recorded history, yet is treated as less than a person by those whose only suffering was a smaller paycheck.

The police force were especially harder on his kind, but only when they’re caught in the center of the city. Another main function of the Stacks was to hold the majority of crime so that the upper ends could sleep better at night, while he has to use five bolted locks on the doors of his crate just to avoid being robbed or killed in plain daylight. A crime such as stealing a loaf of bread could earn you a year in prison if it’s done in the city, but murder is completely overlooked in his backyard. Who knows how long Virgil would have been behind bars if that shit eating cop caught him for operating a stand without a license.

This is the sort of injustice he had to live through on a daily basis simply because he was born on the wrong side of the tracks. The new senator elected last year promised change for all as his slogan, but Virgil knew what he truly meant. He, just as all the others, would help and listen to only the rich fucks of the city, leaving Stack rats such as himself to beg for their scraps. The government didn’t care for them, and there was no way the officials would allow any of them leave their hell. That’s just the way the system worked and that’s how it’d stay. No one was brave enough to try and change it.

.

.

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@shaeshaetheravenclaw

[jipgeven]

10.06.18

Bread is an object constantly in the process of becoming something else - grain to flour, flour to dough, dough to loaf, loaf to crumb. This holds true even for bread’s symbolic existence: while people have historically gathered to ‘break bread together,’ bread has also driven social conflicts, from ‘bread riots’ to its divisive role as an ethnic, religious, and class signifier. 

Some other books that could be really interesting:  - Brother Juniper’s Bread Book; Slow Rise as Method and Metaphor by Peter Reinhart. As well as books about baking bread by the same author. 

In any case, what captivates me most is not so much bread as a product, nor even an idea, but as a process and an experience. 

One might say that bread is both quite difficult to make. On the other hand, simple breads can be made by anyone in an average home kitchen, and with only a modest investment of time and effort will equal or surpass, in nutritional value and eating pleasure, anything you can buy wrapped in plastic at the grocery store. On the other hand, the finest artisanal breads are the product of an extraordinary and intricate craft that one learns only gradually, and perhaps never masters absolutely. For an amateur like myself, to watch a professional baker at work is as humbling as it is enthralling. Yet even the very finest of bakers will sometimes acknowledge that the process of baking is not exactly, or not simply, one of mastery: for one does not so much make bread as work with it. 

In a great many other ways as well, bread - which ‘appears at first sight to be an extremely obvious, trivial thing’ - can be shown to be ‘a very strange thing, abounding in metaphysical subtleties and theological niceties.’ 

For of course it is finally because bread does present itself, quite literall, as the master of so many - the ‘staff of life,’ the ultimate staple commodity, an object marking the very line of survival itself - that bread as either an object or an idea has accumulated such overwhelming symbolic power. This is obviously why the word and image ‘bread’ often signifies value itself, and refers metaphorically either to food in general, or to something like ‘livelihood,’ in expressions such as ‘breadwinner,’ ‘taking the bread out of his mouth,’ and so forth. Similarly, both ‘bread’ and ‘dough’ have been used as slang words for money. And no wonder, because it is precisely in societies like ours, societies radically divided along lines of wealth and poverty, that bread becomes (as Piero Camporesi writes), a ‘polyvalent object on which life, death and dreams depend... the culminating point and instrument, real and symbolic, of existence itself.’ To think of bread at all is therefore necessarily also to dream of what the utopian socialist Peter Kropotkin calls, in the title of his most famous text, The Conquest of Bread: the unappeasable demand for a world in which there is not single man who lacks bread, not a single woman compelled to stand with the wearied crowd outside the bakehouse-door, that haply a coarse loaf may be thrown to her in charity, not a single child pining for want of food. 

Even for those of us who have never known real privation, our individual and collective experience of bread can never be entirely separated from violence and scarcity, from famine and dearth. Yet if bread thus necessarily serves as the very symbol, figure, or instance of the ‘iron law’ of economy (what Marx calls the realm of Necessity), by the same token it also figures the realm of Freedom. The medieval peasants in France known as the Jacquerie revolted against their masters with the slogan le pain se love - the bread rises. As Kropotkin writes, all ‘utopian dreamers,’ first and last, ‘shall have to consider the question of daily bread.’ 

Bogost suggests that the figure of the ‘alien’ should not apply merely to the literal extraterrestrial or ‘space-alien’ - nor even, as one might venture to add, to the noncitizen, the migrant or ‘illegal alien.’  - Which people fall outside of the system of ‘our daily bread’? Homeless people, (refused) refugees, people with an gluqenallergy. How can I use this as a metaphor/system? How can you express this practically? 

(Or perhaps, much more simply and personally, I just cannot force myself to think in terms of ‘withdrawal’ with regard to objects such as flour, yeast, dough, and bread - things that literally coexist with me, things that have filled my hand, my mouth, my time and my space, things that metabolize for me even as I later metabolize them, things I have digested in every possible sense of the word. 

This time, I have in mind a simple fact about the making of many kinds of bread whose radical strangeness cannot quite be extinguished even by our scientific and practical familiarity with all of its mechanisms and details. The most familiar kind of bread - the kind made of nothing more than flour, water, salt and yeast, which are mixed, fermented, shaped and baked - is the product of a remarkable cooperation or symbiosis between human beings and a variety of microorganisms. This so-called ‘leavened’ bread has been given its shape and appealing lightness by a combination of certain peculiar properties of the starch and protein molecules in the wheat, and by the microbial action of yeast (a fungus) and lacto-bacteria, who themselves cooperate symbiotically in the process known as ‘fermentation.’ Making bread thus quite literally involves a deliberate manipulation of organic processes otherwise associated with decay and decomposition. Accordingly, across a long tradition of discourse and social practice, fermentation has been seen almost as often as a vaguely frightening form of contamination as it has a benevolent miracle. 

The development of an industrial model of mass-produced bread in the twentieth century (something commonly deplored by practically everyone who writes about bread today) was, at least in part, designed specifically to shield from the senses of the consumer all traces of the messy biological details of bread making. Can we by showing the messy details of bread making also show the messy details about money or not having money? 

In our times, another current of thought has emegered that regards bread as fundamental human mistake.  An even larger group of people, estimated to be as many as one third of Americans, avoid bread because they have been convinced that of one of its distinctive ingredients, the protein gluten, is bad for them - notwithstanding a scientific consensus that there is nothing whatsoever wrong with gluten for the vast majority of human beings. Today a veritable industry of cookbooks and ‘gluten-free’ products has developed to confirm the new nutritional creed and fulfill its self-formulated requirements.

It turns out, on the contrary, that at least in some people’s eyes, I am in love with a monster, and indigestible poison, the number on culprit for cancer and capitalism, obesity and war, and pretty much everything else that has ever gone wrong in the whole human adventure. 

At most, I will suggest that this new rejection of bread partakes of a familiar cultural nostalgia about the irretrievable past. Perhaps it even echoes the ancient association of yeast and corruption and expresses an unconscious distaste for this dangerous familiar: the literally alien being who live, work, and die with us in our homes, our bakeries, and our bodies. 

It is, rather, that the thought of bread is so often, and in so many ways, a thought of the Self and the Other. As I have suggested, the simple act of eating or making bread finally links us to all those who have been or are deprived of it. At another level, bread also involves an intimate interaction between human beings and various examples of what we might call, following Donna Haraway, ‘companion species.’ 

Yet, Haraway and many others have observed, the very word ‘companion’ derives from the Latin cum panis, ‘with bread’. This Latin phrase and its modern English derivate seem to indicate a small shift of meaning from the object at issue to the human subjects who will consume it. The being-with designated is not so much a relation of human beings to bread, but the sharing of it by ‘companions’ who will, in the conventional phrase, ‘break bread’ together. Just as bread has often been a collective thing in its practical conditions (the grain ground by the neighborhood miller, the bread baked in communal ovens, the loaves themselves usually large enough to invite or require sharing), so bread in its very idea commonly serves as the very token, rubric, or occasion for the ‘with’ of companionship itself. 

Even in itself bread is also the ultimate transformational food, something always in process of changing from one thing to another. As the great contemporary baker and baking teacher Peter Reinhart writes, among the myriad varieties of bread in the world, the one universal thing is ‘transformation’ - a process by which ‘a tasteless pile of flour, like sawdust on the tongue, is miraculously transformed into a multilayered series of flavors and textures.’ 

-    Bread - Scott Cutler Shershow 

[joelandryus]

Why That Diet Didn’t Work for You

During your workout you saw a fellow gym-goer for the first time in several weeks. You hear her telling another member about her recent weight loss. “I swear, the ketogenic diet is the best thing ever. I dropped 10 pounds in four weeks,” she raved.

The next day in the break room, one of your co-workers is incessantly chatting about the meal plan she’s been following for a few weeks, because she’s already lost five pounds.

Intrigued and curious, you try these diets too. But, when you try them, they just don’t seem to produce the same holy crap I’ve found “the one” experiences as the women who sing their praises.

WTF, right? Why didn’t that diet work for you when other women seemed to achieve fast results?

Before we answer that question, here’s an important fact: there is no “perfect” or “magical” diet. Never has been, and never will be. Any diet can produce weight loss as long as you’re in a caloric deficit. Yes, this applies to Paleo, ketogenic, low-fat, vegan, and other diet you can think of. Some people may “go Paleo” and rave about how much fat they’ve lost, but it’s not the “Paleo” part that produced the weight loss. It’s because they were in a caloric deficit, which is most likely due to the fact that the Paleo diet eliminates grains and dairy, so that cuts out a lot of palatable foods that are easy to overeat (e.g., desserts like ice cream, cakes and cookies).

To use one more common example, it’s why some people lose weight quickly when they do a “sugar detox.” Not because they stopped eating sugar, but because they stopped eating calorie-dense, hyper-palatable foods that were also high in fat: desserts, snack cakes, doughnuts, and other heavily processed foods. By not eating those foods, they decreased the number of calories they consumed. The caloric deficit led to weight loss.

Image created by Fast Forward Amy.

It’s not magic. It’s math.

This also explains why someone can “go Paleo” (or any other diet) and not lose weight, because they were not in a caloric deficit. While they eliminated certain foods and food groups, they ate more of other things. (It’s easy to eat more than you realize with high-fat foods like nut butters and coconut oil, and it’s one reason why people who eat healthy can’t seem to lose weight.)

The “I tried this diet and lost weight so that’s indisputable proof that it’s the ultimate style of eating” rhetoric is what causes people to define themselves by a way of eating, and to develop a religion-like relationship with food. No longer is the way they eat something that simplifies and enhances their life — it consumes their personality. They’ve seen the “supreme style of eating” light and are anxious to share the good news with everyone who crosses their path about healthy carbs and acceptable fats and sinful processed evils that will lead to their ultimate demise.

You too can be saved if you bow to the one true nutrition god and forsake all others. Resist, and ye shall burn in a fiery, gluten filled hell and choke on the smoke from smoldering carby-goodness. In the name of clean eating, amen.

This is Why That Diet Didn’t Work

The four Ps explain why that diet didn’t work. One diet or style of eating will not work for everyone because we all have a different past, and we have different personalities, perceptions, and preferences.

We all have different pasts. What you’ve experienced influences you. It’s why someone who grew up in a home where things were constantly changing (divorce, having to move frequently) may be an adult with control issues. Because she didn’t have any control over much of what happened in her childhood, she wants to control everything now.

Similarly, your past experiences with food will affect how you view food now. Using myself as an example, my years of battling obsessive and binge eating habits is why I can’t follow meal plans or count calories without dire consequences. If I had to track and eat 1800 calories a day, within one week I’d likely dive head first back into binge eating and other restrictive eating habits. My past experiences with rigid diets make counting calories an option that is not viable for me.

Someone who has never obsessed over food and doesn’t know what it’s like to have food dominate their lives may have a very different experience. In fact, tracking calories may help them reach their goals without any negative consequences. Whereas it would stress me out and lead to binge eating, it could simplify the process and help them easily stay on track. Past experiences matter when it comes to present actions.

We all have different personalities. Some people can effortlessly make healthy food choices, even when they’re ravenous and short on time. Someone else may opt for whatever sounds best and is most convenient, which is usually something heavily processed and calorie-dense. Someone can live in a home filled with cookies, ice cream, and other tasty goodies without constantly being tempted to eat them. Someone else may be more likely to eat all those things because they’re around.

Someone may prefer to organize and prepare meals for the entire week to make it easy to stay on track. Someone else may loathe the idea of eating out of tupperware containers.

When it comes to why we eat what we eat, our personalities play a crucial role. You need to understand your personality, and then work with it, not against it.

We all have different perceptions. Some people respond emotionally to less than ideal food choices. Whereas one woman may be plagued with guilt from eating a sleeve of cookies and will vow to punish herself with an extra workout, another woman may simply be able to shrug it off and move forward with healthy food choices.

One woman may see the number on the bathroom scale as objective data, but for another woman it may have the ability to make or break her entire day, and self-esteem.

Two people can perceive the same event entirely differently.

We all have different preferences. What if you like carbs? Nay. You don’t merely like them — they’re some of the very foods that make life worth living. Like a freshly baked loaf of Challah bread, or homemade mashed potatoes. If you’re like me and love carb-rich foods, then attempting a ketogenic diet for weight loss would be an excruciating endeavor.

Maybe you like beets and enjoy adding them to a salad; maybe I’d rather gnaw on the sole of my tennis shoe then pop one of those dirt-tasting red balls of misery in my mouth.

The point is, not everyone likes the same foods; not everyone feels best eating the same foods or combination of macronutrients (some people prefer to eat a higher-carb diet, others a lower-carb). Not everyone likes to eat three meals per day — some prefer two big meals, some prefer five small meals.

And this is why that diet didn’t work for you.

It likely didn’t meld with your personality or perception, or it agitated an old wound from past experiences. Or, perhaps, it simply didn’t suit your preferences.

Or, and this is a distinct possibility — it was a crazy ass diet with rigid rules that was impractical and unsustainable and reeked of bullshit claims about its superiority to all other styles of eating, or it was based on sensationalized or fear-based marketing.

How to Create a Diet That Works for You

I use the word “diet” because it’s a term people are familiar with, but it simply means a style of eating.

Rather than a traditional diet or meal plan or some other restrictive eating regimen, embrace flexible guidelines. Specifically, guidelines that can be tailored to your past, personality, perception, and most definitely, your preferences.

Regardless of what slant your eating habits have — the number of meals you prefer to eat each day, foods you love and dislike — here’s what science has proven to work for losing weight (or maintaining a healthy weight) and building muscle.

Eat a variety of mostly real, minimally processed foods. This is a good way to get plenty of satisfying, nutrient-dense foods that can not only help you build a better looking body, but a healthier body, too. And let’s face it — that’s something most people put at the bottom of the priority list. This means choosing a baked potato over french fries from the drive-thru. Or a grilled chicken boob over fried nuggets.

And, no, there are no “off limit” foods or food groups. (The obvious exception: you have an allergy or medical condition and have been instructed to avoid certain foods from your doctor.) There is no single food group or macronutrient solely responsible for weight gain or fat loss.

Include a good source of protein in all meals. I’m assuming you strength train since you’re on this website (or you plan to start strength training). If you’re not, you should be — there are too many amazing benefits from this doesn’t-demand-much-time activity.

Not only does eating a good source of protein with all meals help you feel satisfied, but it also spares muscle loss when you’re eating in a caloric deficit.

Work in all other foods occasionally, and in moderate amounts. “All other foods” are things that don’t fall into the “real, minimally processed” category, or things simply considered “not super healthy foods.” Foods like pizza, fried chicken, ice cream, or whatever the heck you love that’s calorie-dense and not the healthiest option but tastes dang good.

One eating method will not work for everyone, and this is why your friend or co-worker may achieve great results from a diet, but you don’t. The solution is clear: you must be your own guru. You must find what will work for you.

Consider your past experiences, and your personality, perceptions, and preferences. Then create sustainable habits that form a lifestyle.

The post Why That Diet Didn’t Work for You appeared first on Nia Shanks.

from Sarah Luke Fitness Updates http://www.niashanks.com/why-that-diet-didnt-work/

[juliehbutler]

Why That Diet Didn’t Work for You

During your workout you saw a fellow gym-goer for the first time in several weeks. You hear her telling another member about her recent weight loss. “I swear, the ketogenic diet is the best thing ever. I dropped 10 pounds in four weeks,” she raved.

The next day in the break room, one of your co-workers is incessantly chatting about the meal plan she’s been following for a few weeks, because she’s already lost five pounds.

Intrigued and curious, you try these diets too. But, when you try them, they just don’t seem to produce the same holy crap I’ve found “the one” experiences as the women who sing their praises.

WTF, right? Why didn’t that diet work for you when other women seemed to achieve fast results?

Before we answer that question, here’s an important fact: there is no “perfect” or “magical” diet. Never has been, and never will be. Any diet can produce weight loss as long as you’re in a caloric deficit. Yes, this applies to Paleo, ketogenic, low-fat, vegan, and other diet you can think of. Some people may “go Paleo” and rave about how much fat they’ve lost, but it’s not the “Paleo” part that produced the weight loss. It’s because they were in a caloric deficit, which is most likely due to the fact that the Paleo diet eliminates grains and dairy, so that cuts out a lot of palatable foods that are easy to overeat (e.g., desserts like ice cream, cakes and cookies).

To use one more common example, it’s why some people lose weight quickly when they do a “sugar detox.” Not because they stopped eating sugar, but because they stopped eating calorie-dense, hyper-palatable foods that were also high in fat: desserts, snack cakes, doughnuts, and other heavily processed foods. By not eating those foods, they decreased the number of calories they consumed. The caloric deficit led to weight loss.

Image created by Fast Forward Amy.

It’s not magic. It’s math.

This also explains why someone can “go Paleo” (or any other diet) and not lose weight, because they were not in a caloric deficit. While they eliminated certain foods and food groups, they ate more of other things. (It’s easy to eat more than you realize with high-fat foods like nut butters and coconut oil, and it’s one reason why people who eat healthy can’t seem to lose weight.)

The “I tried this diet and lost weight so that’s indisputable proof that it’s the ultimate style of eating” rhetoric is what causes people to define themselves by a way of eating, and to develop a religion-like relationship with food. No longer is the way they eat something that simplifies and enhances their life — it consumes their personality. They’ve seen the “supreme style of eating” light and are anxious to share the good news with everyone who crosses their path about healthy carbs and acceptable fats and sinful processed evils that will lead to their ultimate demise.

You too can be saved if you bow to the one true nutrition god and forsake all others. Resist, and ye shall burn in a fiery, gluten filled hell and choke on the smoke from smoldering carby-goodness. In the name of clean eating, amen.

This is Why That Diet Didn’t Work

The four Ps explain why that diet didn’t work. One diet or style of eating will not work for everyone because we all have a different past, and we have different personalities, perceptions, and preferences.

We all have different pasts. What you’ve experienced influences you. It’s why someone who grew up in a home where things were constantly changing (divorce, having to move frequently) may be an adult with control issues. Because she didn’t have any control over much of what happened in her childhood, she wants to control everything now.

Similarly, your past experiences with food will affect how you view food now. Using myself as an example, my years of battling obsessive and binge eating habits is why I can’t follow meal plans or count calories without dire consequences. If I had to track and eat 1800 calories a day, within one week I’d likely dive head first back into binge eating and other restrictive eating habits. My past experiences with rigid diets make counting calories an option that is not viable for me.

Someone who has never obsessed over food and doesn’t know what it’s like to have food dominate their lives may have a very different experience. In fact, tracking calories may help them reach their goals without any negative consequences. Whereas it would stress me out and lead to binge eating, it could simplify the process and help them easily stay on track. Past experiences matter when it comes to present actions.

We all have different personalities. Some people can effortlessly make healthy food choices, even when they’re ravenous and short on time. Someone else may opt for whatever sounds best and is most convenient, which is usually something heavily processed and calorie-dense. Someone can live in a home filled with cookies, ice cream, and other tasty goodies without constantly being tempted to eat them. Someone else may be more likely to eat all those things because they’re around.

Someone may prefer to organize and prepare meals for the entire week to make it easy to stay on track. Someone else may loathe the idea of eating out of tupperware containers.

When it comes to why we eat what we eat, our personalities play a crucial role. You need to understand your personality, and then work with it, not against it.

We all have different perceptions. Some people respond emotionally to less than ideal food choices. Whereas one woman may be plagued with guilt from eating a sleeve of cookies and will vow to punish herself with an extra workout, another woman may simply be able to shrug it off and move forward with healthy food choices.

One woman may see the number on the bathroom scale as objective data, but for another woman it may have the ability to make or break her entire day, and self-esteem.

Two people can perceive the same event entirely differently.

We all have different preferences. What if you like carbs? Nay. You don’t merely like them — they’re some of the very foods that make life worth living. Like a freshly baked loaf of Challah bread, or homemade mashed potatoes. If you’re like me and love carb-rich foods, then attempting a ketogenic diet for weight loss would be an excruciating endeavor.

Maybe you like beets and enjoy adding them to a salad; maybe I’d rather gnaw on the sole of my tennis shoe then pop one of those dirt-tasting red balls of misery in my mouth.

The point is, not everyone likes the same foods; not everyone feels best eating the same foods or combination of macronutrients (some people prefer to eat a higher-carb diet, others a lower-carb). Not everyone likes to eat three meals per day — some prefer two big meals, some prefer five small meals.

And this is why that diet didn’t work for you.

It likely didn’t meld with your personality or perception, or it agitated an old wound from past experiences. Or, perhaps, it simply didn’t suit your preferences.

Or, and this is a distinct possibility — it was a crazy ass diet with rigid rules that was impractical and unsustainable and reeked of bullshit claims about its superiority to all other styles of eating, or it was based on sensationalized or fear-based marketing.

How to Create a Diet That Works for You

I use the word “diet” because it’s a term people are familiar with, but it simply means a style of eating.

Rather than a traditional diet or meal plan or some other restrictive eating regimen, embrace flexible guidelines. Specifically, guidelines that can be tailored to your past, personality, perception, and most definitely, your preferences.

Regardless of what slant your eating habits have — the number of meals you prefer to eat each day, foods you love and dislike — here’s what science has proven to work for losing weight (or maintaining a healthy weight) and building muscle.

Eat a variety of mostly real, minimally processed foods. This is a good way to get plenty of satisfying, nutrient-dense foods that can not only help you build a better looking body, but a healthier body, too. And let’s face it — that’s something most people put at the bottom of the priority list. This means choosing a baked potato over french fries from the drive-thru. Or a grilled chicken boob over fried nuggets.

And, no, there are no “off limit” foods or food groups. (The obvious exception: you have an allergy or medical condition and have been instructed to avoid certain foods from your doctor.) There is no single food group or macronutrient solely responsible for weight gain or fat loss.

Include a good source of protein in all meals. I’m assuming you strength train since you’re on this website (or you plan to start strength training). If you’re not, you should be — there are too many amazing benefits from this doesn’t-demand-much-time activity.

Not only does eating a good source of protein with all meals help you feel satisfied, but it also spares muscle loss when you’re eating in a caloric deficit.

Work in all other foods occasionally, and in moderate amounts. “All other foods” are things that don’t fall into the “real, minimally processed” category, or things simply considered “not super healthy foods.” Foods like pizza, fried chicken, ice cream, or whatever the heck you love that’s calorie-dense and not the healthiest option but tastes dang good.

One eating method will not work for everyone, and this is why your friend or co-worker may achieve great results from a diet, but you don’t. The solution is clear: you must be your own guru. You must find what will work for you.

Consider your past experiences, and your personality, perceptions, and preferences. Then create sustainable habits that form a lifestyle.

The post Why That Diet Didn’t Work for You appeared first on Nia Shanks.

from Healthy Living http://www.niashanks.com/why-that-diet-didnt-work/

[evajrobinsontx]

Why That Diet Didn’t Work for You

During your workout you saw a fellow gym-goer for the first time in several weeks. You hear her telling another member about her recent weight loss. “I swear, the ketogenic diet is the best thing ever. I dropped 10 pounds in four weeks,” she raved.

The next day in the break room, one of your co-workers is incessantly chatting about the meal plan she’s been following for a few weeks, because she’s already lost five pounds.

Intrigued and curious, you try these diets too. But, when you try them, they just don’t seem to produce the same holy crap I’ve found “the one” experiences as the women who sing their praises.

WTF, right? Why didn’t that diet work for you when other women seemed to achieve fast results?

Before we answer that question, here’s an important fact: there is no “perfect” or “magical” diet. Never has been, and never will be. Any diet can produce weight loss as long as you’re in a caloric deficit. Yes, this applies to Paleo, ketogenic, low-fat, vegan, and other diet you can think of. Some people may “go Paleo” and rave about how much fat they’ve lost, but it’s not the “Paleo” part that produced the weight loss. It’s because they were in a caloric deficit, which is most likely due to the fact that the Paleo diet eliminates grains and dairy, so that cuts out a lot of palatable foods that are easy to overeat (e.g., desserts like ice cream, cakes and cookies).

To use one more common example, it’s why some people lose weight quickly when they do a “sugar detox.” Not because they stopped eating sugar, but because they stopped eating calorie-dense, hyper-palatable foods that were also high in fat: desserts, snack cakes, doughnuts, and other heavily processed foods. By not eating those foods, they decreased the number of calories they consumed. The caloric deficit led to weight loss.

Image created by Fast Forward Amy.

It’s not magic. It’s math.

This also explains why someone can “go Paleo” (or any other diet) and not lose weight, because they were not in a caloric deficit. While they eliminated certain foods and food groups, they ate more of other things. (It’s easy to eat more than you realize with high-fat foods like nut butters and coconut oil, and it’s one reason why people who eat healthy can’t seem to lose weight.)

The “I tried this diet and lost weight so that’s indisputable proof that it’s the ultimate style of eating” rhetoric is what causes people to define themselves by a way of eating, and to develop a religion-like relationship with food. No longer is the way they eat something that simplifies and enhances their life — it consumes their personality. They’ve seen the “supreme style of eating” light and are anxious to share the good news with everyone who crosses their path about healthy carbs and acceptable fats and sinful processed evils that will lead to their ultimate demise.

You too can be saved if you bow to the one true nutrition god and forsake all others. Resist, and ye shall burn in a fiery, gluten filled hell and choke on the smoke from smoldering carby-goodness. In the name of clean eating, amen.

This is Why That Diet Didn’t Work

The four Ps explain why that diet didn’t work. One diet or style of eating will not work for everyone because we all have a different past, and we have different personalities, perceptions, and preferences.

We all have different pasts. What you’ve experienced influences you. It’s why someone who grew up in a home where things were constantly changing (divorce, having to move frequently) may be an adult with control issues. Because she didn’t have any control over much of what happened in her childhood, she wants to control everything now.

Similarly, your past experiences with food will affect how you view food now. Using myself as an example, my years of battling obsessive and binge eating habits is why I can’t follow meal plans or count calories without dire consequences. If I had to track and eat 1800 calories a day, within one week I’d likely dive head first back into binge eating and other restrictive eating habits. My past experiences with rigid diets make counting calories an option that is not viable for me.

Someone who has never obsessed over food and doesn’t know what it’s like to have food dominate their lives may have a very different experience. In fact, tracking calories may help them reach their goals without any negative consequences. Whereas it would stress me out and lead to binge eating, it could simplify the process and help them easily stay on track. Past experiences matter when it comes to present actions.

We all have different personalities. Some people can effortlessly make healthy food choices, even when they’re ravenous and short on time. Someone else may opt for whatever sounds best and is most convenient, which is usually something heavily processed and calorie-dense. Someone can live in a home filled with cookies, ice cream, and other tasty goodies without constantly being tempted to eat them. Someone else may be more likely to eat all those things because they’re around.

Someone may prefer to organize and prepare meals for the entire week to make it easy to stay on track. Someone else may loathe the idea of eating out of tupperware containers.

When it comes to why we eat what we eat, our personalities play a crucial role. You need to understand your personality, and then work with it, not against it.

We all have different perceptions. Some people respond emotionally to less than ideal food choices. Whereas one woman may be plagued with guilt from eating a sleeve of cookies and will vow to punish herself with an extra workout, another woman may simply be able to shrug it off and move forward with healthy food choices.

One woman may see the number on the bathroom scale as objective data, but for another woman it may have the ability to make or break her entire day, and self-esteem.

Two people can perceive the same event entirely differently.

We all have different preferences. What if you like carbs? Nay. You don’t merely like them — they’re some of the very foods that make life worth living. Like a freshly baked loaf of Challah bread, or homemade mashed potatoes. If you’re like me and love carb-rich foods, then attempting a ketogenic diet for weight loss would be an excruciating endeavor.

Maybe you like beets and enjoy adding them to a salad; maybe I’d rather gnaw on the sole of my tennis shoe then pop one of those dirt-tasting red balls of misery in my mouth.

The point is, not everyone likes the same foods; not everyone feels best eating the same foods or combination of macronutrients (some people prefer to eat a higher-carb diet, others a lower-carb). Not everyone likes to eat three meals per day — some prefer two big meals, some prefer five small meals.

And this is why that diet didn’t work for you.

It likely didn’t meld with your personality or perception, or it agitated an old wound from past experiences. Or, perhaps, it simply didn’t suit your preferences.

Or, and this is a distinct possibility — it was a crazy ass diet with rigid rules that was impractical and unsustainable and reeked of bullshit claims about its superiority to all other styles of eating, or it was based on sensationalized or fear-based marketing.

How to Create a Diet That Works for You

I use the word “diet” because it’s a term people are familiar with, but it simply means a style of eating.

Rather than a traditional diet or meal plan or some other restrictive eating regimen, embrace flexible guidelines. Specifically, guidelines that can be tailored to your past, personality, perception, and most definitely, your preferences.

Regardless of what slant your eating habits have — the number of meals you prefer to eat each day, foods you love and dislike — here’s what science has proven to work for losing weight (or maintaining a healthy weight) and building muscle.

Eat a variety of mostly real, minimally processed foods. This is a good way to get plenty of satisfying, nutrient-dense foods that can not only help you build a better looking body, but a healthier body, too. And let’s face it — that’s something most people put at the bottom of the priority list. This means choosing a baked potato over french fries from the drive-thru. Or a grilled chicken boob over fried nuggets.

And, no, there are no “off limit” foods or food groups. (The obvious exception: you have an allergy or medical condition and have been instructed to avoid certain foods from your doctor.) There is no single food group or macronutrient solely responsible for weight gain or fat loss.

Include a good source of protein in all meals. I’m assuming you strength train since you’re on this website (or you plan to start strength training). If you’re not, you should be — there are too many amazing benefits from this doesn’t-demand-much-time activity.

Not only does eating a good source of protein with all meals help you feel satisfied, but it also spares muscle loss when you’re eating in a caloric deficit.

Work in all other foods occasionally, and in moderate amounts. “All other foods” are things that don’t fall into the “real, minimally processed” category, or things simply considered “not super healthy foods.” Foods like pizza, fried chicken, ice cream, or whatever the heck you love that’s calorie-dense and not the healthiest option but tastes dang good.

One eating method will not work for everyone, and this is why your friend or co-worker may achieve great results from a diet, but you don’t. The solution is clear: you must be your own guru. You must find what will work for you.

Consider your past experiences, and your personality, perceptions, and preferences. Then create sustainable habits that form a lifestyle.

The post Why That Diet Didn’t Work for You appeared first on Nia Shanks.

from Sarah Luke Fitness Updates http://www.niashanks.com/why-that-diet-didnt-work/

[sarahzlukeuk]

Why That Diet Didn’t Work for You

During your workout you saw a fellow gym-goer for the first time in several weeks. You hear her telling another member about her recent weight loss. “I swear, the ketogenic diet is the best thing ever. I dropped 10 pounds in four weeks,” she raved.

The next day in the break room, one of your co-workers is incessantly chatting about the meal plan she’s been following for a few weeks, because she’s already lost five pounds.

Intrigued and curious, you try these diets too. But, when you try them, they just don’t seem to produce the same holy crap I’ve found “the one” experiences as the women who sing their praises.

WTF, right? Why didn’t that diet work for you when other women seemed to achieve fast results?

Before we answer that question, here’s an important fact: there is no “perfect” or “magical” diet. Never has been, and never will be. Any diet can produce weight loss as long as you’re in a caloric deficit. Yes, this applies to Paleo, ketogenic, low-fat, vegan, and other diet you can think of. Some people may “go Paleo” and rave about how much fat they’ve lost, but it’s not the “Paleo” part that produced the weight loss. It’s because they were in a caloric deficit, which is most likely due to the fact that the Paleo diet eliminates grains and dairy, so that cuts out a lot of palatable foods that are easy to overeat (e.g., desserts like ice cream, cakes and cookies).

To use one more common example, it’s why some people lose weight quickly when they do a “sugar detox.” Not because they stopped eating sugar, but because they stopped eating calorie-dense, hyper-palatable foods that were also high in fat: desserts, snack cakes, doughnuts, and other heavily processed foods. By not eating those foods, they decreased the number of calories they consumed. The caloric deficit led to weight loss.

Image created by Fast Forward Amy.

It’s not magic. It’s math.

This also explains why someone can “go Paleo” (or any other diet) and not lose weight, because they were not in a caloric deficit. While they eliminated certain foods and food groups, they ate more of other things. (It’s easy to eat more than you realize with high-fat foods like nut butters and coconut oil, and it’s one reason why people who eat healthy can’t seem to lose weight.)

The “I tried this diet and lost weight so that’s indisputable proof that it’s the ultimate style of eating” rhetoric is what causes people to define themselves by a way of eating, and to develop a religion-like relationship with food. No longer is the way they eat something that simplifies and enhances their life — it consumes their personality. They’ve seen the “supreme style of eating” light and are anxious to share the good news with everyone who crosses their path about healthy carbs and acceptable fats and sinful processed evils that will lead to their ultimate demise.

You too can be saved if you bow to the one true nutrition god and forsake all others. Resist, and ye shall burn in a fiery, gluten filled hell and choke on the smoke from smoldering carby-goodness. In the name of clean eating, amen.

This is Why That Diet Didn’t Work

The four Ps explain why that diet didn’t work. One diet or style of eating will not work for everyone because we all have a different past, and we have different personalities, perceptions, and preferences.

We all have different pasts. What you’ve experienced influences you. It’s why someone who grew up in a home where things were constantly changing (divorce, having to move frequently) may be an adult with control issues. Because she didn’t have any control over much of what happened in her childhood, she wants to control everything now.

Similarly, your past experiences with food will affect how you view food now. Using myself as an example, my years of battling obsessive and binge eating habits is why I can’t follow meal plans or count calories without dire consequences. If I had to track and eat 1800 calories a day, within one week I’d likely dive head first back into binge eating and other restrictive eating habits. My past experiences with rigid diets make counting calories an option that is not viable for me.

Someone who has never obsessed over food and doesn’t know what it’s like to have food dominate their lives may have a very different experience. In fact, tracking calories may help them reach their goals without any negative consequences. Whereas it would stress me out and lead to binge eating, it could simplify the process and help them easily stay on track. Past experiences matter when it comes to present actions.

We all have different personalities. Some people can effortlessly make healthy food choices, even when they’re ravenous and short on time. Someone else may opt for whatever sounds best and is most convenient, which is usually something heavily processed and calorie-dense. Someone can live in a home filled with cookies, ice cream, and other tasty goodies without constantly being tempted to eat them. Someone else may be more likely to eat all those things because they’re around.

Someone may prefer to organize and prepare meals for the entire week to make it easy to stay on track. Someone else may loathe the idea of eating out of tupperware containers.

When it comes to why we eat what we eat, our personalities play a crucial role. You need to understand your personality, and then work with it, not against it.

We all have different perceptions. Some people respond emotionally to less than ideal food choices. Whereas one woman may be plagued with guilt from eating a sleeve of cookies and will vow to punish herself with an extra workout, another woman may simply be able to shrug it off and move forward with healthy food choices.

One woman may see the number on the bathroom scale as objective data, but for another woman it may have the ability to make or break her entire day, and self-esteem.

Two people can perceive the same event entirely differently.

We all have different preferences. What if you like carbs? Nay. You don’t merely like them — they’re some of the very foods that make life worth living. Like a freshly baked loaf of Challah bread, or homemade mashed potatoes. If you’re like me and love carb-rich foods, then attempting a ketogenic diet for weight loss would be an excruciating endeavor.

Maybe you like beets and enjoy adding them to a salad; maybe I’d rather gnaw on the sole of my tennis shoe then pop one of those dirt-tasting red balls of misery in my mouth.

The point is, not everyone likes the same foods; not everyone feels best eating the same foods or combination of macronutrients (some people prefer to eat a higher-carb diet, others a lower-carb). Not everyone likes to eat three meals per day — some prefer two big meals, some prefer five small meals.

And this is why that diet didn’t work for you.

It likely didn’t meld with your personality or perception, or it agitated an old wound from past experiences. Or, perhaps, it simply didn’t suit your preferences.

Or, and this is a distinct possibility — it was a crazy ass diet with rigid rules that was impractical and unsustainable and reeked of bullshit claims about its superiority to all other styles of eating, or it was based on sensationalized or fear-based marketing.

How to Create a Diet That Works for You

I use the word “diet” because it’s a term people are familiar with, but it simply means a style of eating.

Rather than a traditional diet or meal plan or some other restrictive eating regimen, embrace flexible guidelines. Specifically, guidelines that can be tailored to your past, personality, perception, and most definitely, your preferences.

Regardless of what slant your eating habits have — the number of meals you prefer to eat each day, foods you love and dislike — here’s what science has proven to work for losing weight (or maintaining a healthy weight) and building muscle.

Eat a variety of mostly real, minimally processed foods. This is a good way to get plenty of satisfying, nutrient-dense foods that can not only help you build a better looking body, but a healthier body, too. And let’s face it — that’s something most people put at the bottom of the priority list. This means choosing a baked potato over french fries from the drive-thru. Or a grilled chicken boob over fried nuggets.

And, no, there are no “off limit” foods or food groups. (The obvious exception: you have an allergy or medical condition and have been instructed to avoid certain foods from your doctor.) There is no single food group or macronutrient solely responsible for weight gain or fat loss.

Include a good source of protein in all meals. I’m assuming you strength train since you’re on this website (or you plan to start strength training). If you’re not, you should be — there are too many amazing benefits from this doesn’t-demand-much-time activity.

Not only does eating a good source of protein with all meals help you feel satisfied, but it also spares muscle loss when you’re eating in a caloric deficit.

Work in all other foods occasionally, and in moderate amounts. “All other foods” are things that don’t fall into the “real, minimally processed” category, or things simply considered “not super healthy foods.” Foods like pizza, fried chicken, ice cream, or whatever the heck you love that’s calorie-dense and not the healthiest option but tastes dang good.

One eating method will not work for everyone, and this is why your friend or co-worker may achieve great results from a diet, but you don’t. The solution is clear: you must be your own guru. You must find what will work for you.

Consider your past experiences, and your personality, perceptions, and preferences. Then create sustainable habits that form a lifestyle.

The post Why That Diet Didn’t Work for You appeared first on Nia Shanks.

from Sarah Luke Fitness Updates http://www.niashanks.com/why-that-diet-didnt-work/

[crystalgibsus]

Why That Diet Didn’t Work for You

During your workout you saw a fellow gym-goer for the first time in several weeks. You hear her telling another member about her recent weight loss. “I swear, the ketogenic diet is the best thing ever. I dropped 10 pounds in four weeks,” she raved.

The next day in the break room, one of your co-workers is incessantly chatting about the meal plan she’s been following for a few weeks, because she’s already lost five pounds.

Intrigued and curious, you try these diets too. But, when you try them, they just don’t seem to produce the same holy crap I’ve found “the one” experiences as the women who sing their praises.

WTF, right? Why didn’t that diet work for you when other women seemed to achieve fast results?

Before we answer that question, here’s an important fact: there is no “perfect” or “magical” diet. Never has been, and never will be. Any diet can produce weight loss as long as you’re in a caloric deficit. Yes, this applies to Paleo, ketogenic, low-fat, vegan, and other diet you can think of. Some people may “go Paleo” and rave about how much fat they’ve lost, but it’s not the “Paleo” part that produced the weight loss. It’s because they were in a caloric deficit, which is most likely due to the fact that the Paleo diet eliminates grains and dairy, so that cuts out a lot of palatable foods that are easy to overeat (e.g., desserts like ice cream, cakes and cookies).

To use one more common example, it’s why some people lose weight quickly when they do a “sugar detox.” Not because they stopped eating sugar, but because they stopped eating calorie-dense, hyper-palatable foods that were also high in fat: desserts, snack cakes, doughnuts, and other heavily processed foods. By not eating those foods, they decreased the number of calories they consumed. The caloric deficit led to weight loss.

Image created by Fast Forward Amy.

It’s not magic. It’s math.

This also explains why someone can “go Paleo” (or any other diet) and not lose weight, because they were not in a caloric deficit. While they eliminated certain foods and food groups, they ate more of other things. (It’s easy to eat more than you realize with high-fat foods like nut butters and coconut oil, and it’s one reason why people who eat healthy can’t seem to lose weight.)

The “I tried this diet and lost weight so that’s indisputable proof that it’s the ultimate style of eating” rhetoric is what causes people to define themselves by a way of eating, and to develop a religion-like relationship with food. No longer is the way they eat something that simplifies and enhances their life — it consumes their personality. They’ve seen the “supreme style of eating” light and are anxious to share the good news with everyone who crosses their path about healthy carbs and acceptable fats and sinful processed evils that will lead to their ultimate demise.

You too can be saved if you bow to the one true nutrition god and forsake all others. Resist, and ye shall burn in a fiery, gluten filled hell and choke on the smoke from smoldering carby-goodness. In the name of clean eating, amen.

This is Why That Diet Didn’t Work

The four Ps explain why that diet didn’t work. One diet or style of eating will not work for everyone because we all have a different past, and we have different personalities, perceptions, and preferences.

We all have different pasts. What you’ve experienced influences you. It’s why someone who grew up in a home where things were constantly changing (divorce, having to move frequently) may be an adult with control issues. Because she didn’t have any control over much of what happened in her childhood, she wants to control everything now.

Similarly, your past experiences with food will affect how you view food now. Using myself as an example, my years of battling obsessive and binge eating habits is why I can’t follow meal plans or count calories without dire consequences. If I had to track and eat 1800 calories a day, within one week I’d likely dive head first back into binge eating and other restrictive eating habits. My past experiences with rigid diets make counting calories an option that is not viable for me.

Someone who has never obsessed over food and doesn’t know what it’s like to have food dominate their lives may have a very different experience. In fact, tracking calories may help them reach their goals without any negative consequences. Whereas it would stress me out and lead to binge eating, it could simplify the process and help them easily stay on track. Past experiences matter when it comes to present actions.

We all have different personalities. Some people can effortlessly make healthy food choices, even when they’re ravenous and short on time. Someone else may opt for whatever sounds best and is most convenient, which is usually something heavily processed and calorie-dense. Someone can live in a home filled with cookies, ice cream, and other tasty goodies without constantly being tempted to eat them. Someone else may be more likely to eat all those things because they’re around.

Someone may prefer to organize and prepare meals for the entire week to make it easy to stay on track. Someone else may loathe the idea of eating out of tupperware containers.

When it comes to why we eat what we eat, our personalities play a crucial role. You need to understand your personality, and then work with it, not against it.

We all have different perceptions. Some people respond emotionally to less than ideal food choices. Whereas one woman may be plagued with guilt from eating a sleeve of cookies and will vow to punish herself with an extra workout, another woman may simply be able to shrug it off and move forward with healthy food choices.

One woman may see the number on the bathroom scale as objective data, but for another woman it may have the ability to make or break her entire day, and self-esteem.

Two people can perceive the same event entirely differently.

We all have different preferences. What if you like carbs? Nay. You don’t merely like them — they’re some of the very foods that make life worth living. Like a freshly baked loaf of Challah bread, or homemade mashed potatoes. If you’re like me and love carb-rich foods, then attempting a ketogenic diet for weight loss would be an excruciating endeavor.

Maybe you like beets and enjoy adding them to a salad; maybe I’d rather gnaw on the sole of my tennis shoe then pop one of those dirt-tasting red balls of misery in my mouth.

The point is, not everyone likes the same foods; not everyone feels best eating the same foods or combination of macronutrients (some people prefer to eat a higher-carb diet, others a lower-carb). Not everyone likes to eat three meals per day — some prefer two big meals, some prefer five small meals.

And this is why that diet didn’t work for you.

It likely didn’t meld with your personality or perception, or it agitated an old wound from past experiences. Or, perhaps, it simply didn’t suit your preferences.

Or, and this is a distinct possibility — it was a crazy ass diet with rigid rules that was impractical and unsustainable and reeked of bullshit claims about its superiority to all other styles of eating, or it was based on sensationalized or fear-based marketing.

How to Create a Diet That Works for You

I use the word “diet” because it’s a term people are familiar with, but it simply means a style of eating.

Rather than a traditional diet or meal plan or some other restrictive eating regimen, embrace flexible guidelines. Specifically, guidelines that can be tailored to your past, personality, perception, and most definitely, your preferences.

Regardless of what slant your eating habits have — the number of meals you prefer to eat each day, foods you love and dislike — here’s what science has proven to work for losing weight (or maintaining a healthy weight) and building muscle.

Eat a variety of mostly real, minimally processed foods. This is a good way to get plenty of satisfying, nutrient-dense foods that can not only help you build a better looking body, but a healthier body, too. And let’s face it — that’s something most people put at the bottom of the priority list. This means choosing a baked potato over french fries from the drive-thru. Or a grilled chicken boob over fried nuggets.

And, no, there are no “off limit” foods or food groups. (The obvious exception: you have an allergy or medical condition and have been instructed to avoid certain foods from your doctor.) There is no single food group or macronutrient solely responsible for weight gain or fat loss.

Include a good source of protein in all meals. I’m assuming you strength train since you’re on this website (or you plan to start strength training). If you’re not, you should be — there are too many amazing benefits from this doesn’t-demand-much-time activity.

Not only does eating a good source of protein with all meals help you feel satisfied, but it also spares muscle loss when you’re eating in a caloric deficit.

Work in all other foods occasionally, and in moderate amounts. “All other foods” are things that don’t fall into the “real, minimally processed” category, or things simply considered “not super healthy foods.” Foods like pizza, fried chicken, ice cream, or whatever the heck you love that’s calorie-dense and not the healthiest option but tastes dang good.

One eating method will not work for everyone, and this is why your friend or co-worker may achieve great results from a diet, but you don’t. The solution is clear: you must be your own guru. You must find what will work for you.

Consider your past experiences, and your personality, perceptions, and preferences. Then create sustainable habits that form a lifestyle.

The post Why That Diet Didn’t Work for You appeared first on Nia Shanks.

from Tips By Crystal http://www.niashanks.com/why-that-diet-didnt-work/